Greetings and Salutations! For several years, I've been a regular contributor to the alt.tv.dark_shadows newsgroup and related forums. I've also been a Festival volunteer in 1998, 2000 and 2001, and met many of you, though you may not have known it at the time. (I DID tell a couple of people!) I was also at the 1997 Festival, my first, where I made what I thought was a rousing little speech but apparently was an embarrassing, eccentric, off-putting gaffe. (Mea maxima culpa--- I guess I tried too hard.) Oh, well, those of you who weren't there, or do not possess Dave Brown's video of this golden moment (if you do, I thank God you can't see my face!) can judge for yourselves:

"Since I first watched DS, I've looked beyond the supernatural plots

and situational ethics, trying to find a higher road amid the mayhem,

And I believe I found it.

"To be beaten and broken but never destroyed;

To be tempested and travailed but never overcome;

To forgive more than can be forgiven;

To take one last shot at redemption---

"These are NOT Bad messages!

A character in a DS story I wrote says,

'If believing in good things makes me a crackpot, so be it!'

Thanks for listening to THIS crackpot.

God bless us, everyone, and,

DARK SHADOWS RULES!"

This is the story of which I spoke, COMMONPLACE EVILS. . .The notorious "Gone With the Wind" of DS fan-fiction, alas. . .The novel, the first three and one-half chapters of which I presented to fan-fiction publishers, whom I THINK found them so long they would have occupied a book of their own! I won't complain, since I brought this on myself, but it took over three years to complete (and even now, I still edit and tighten it up here and there.) I did my level best to reconcile as many discrepancies, contradictions, discontinuity, you name it, in the old show. (Now you know why I'm so good at doing this on the NG! It's like how one gets to Carnegie Hall--- practice, practice, practice!) I admit I excluded some characters who were fan favorites, in favor of bringing back some short-term characters whom I've always felt got short shrift. (However, SPOILER! for you Quentin lovers, IF you're VERY, VERY patient, He DOES show up, EVENTUALLY. VERY, VERY Eventually!)

I broke all the rules I was ever taught about writing ANYTHING here. No outline, no clear idea where I was headed, until I got a valuable piece of advice from my late sister. "Write the last chapter before you go any further," she said. As it happened, I HAD been visualizing the final chapter (including Quentin!) the way I had the first ten chapters, at work. The "visions" were almost three-dimensional. I went ahead and wrote it, and it gave me the focus I was looking for (and, save for one major change, it stands pretty much as originally written.)

You see, I had NEVER intended to write a huge DS novel. I was just going to write a simple story about how Barnabas and Julia finally get things straight and get hitched. However, like every other plot that ever existed on DS or any other soap opera, this required

a catalyst. In the end, the catalyst--- a clever, prescient, utterly with-it niece of Julia's, was the solution. She was to be my answer to the guileless, sometimes-clueless, easily victimized ingenue governesses. I threw in the secondary element, which was to elevate Willie Loomis from the back-burner where his character had languished toward the end of the modern period of DS. He was my favorite character for some time as it was. This brought me to another cute idea---when I used to watch John Karlen on "Cagney and Lacey", playing the ever-dedicated keeper of the cop-wife's home-fires, I would think, "this is what Willie would have aspired to if he ever grew up. Not a leader, but a support system, counsellor, whatever."

This is an idea that just grew and grew--- it basically wrote itself, because once I applied the idea of writing the last chapter to stand on its own, I wrote a few more crucial chapters the same way, and needed a controlling theme to string them together.

It hit me one afternoon---an epic battle between good and evil fought in claustrophobic spaces and involving a threat to innocent children, plus a couple of centuries-old curses (yes, I know, how original---NOT!) This made the task much harder, but it was do-able. It made for a good excuse to try to explain my theories about Nicholas Blair. It was a

perfect opportunity to introduce a Native-American element which was lacking in the original DS (slavery also, but that's for another story.) It made for a great forum to explore my ideas about morals and ethics, what I believed about religion at the time, and the applications of grief in regards to siblingsand between parents and children. I got to write about my ideas about marriage and relationships in several different styles, a stretch because I have never been married, and eschew relationships at present. I was also able to throw in what I had learned about unplanned pregnancies, antiques, Greek mythology, colonial architecture, VietNam and old New England towns. . .

I've liberally used Dark Shadows characters, but added many of my own, besides Julia's long-lost niece. I tried to fit them into the landscape, a setting to which I've also added new places, with as many sinister goings-on as any secret room at Collinwood or the Old House. (If Dan Curtis and I should ever get into a fracas over the division of HIS intellectual property and MINE, we'll settle it over a friendly game of "Risk", the Game of Global Conquest. Or, better yet, "Battleship"! If I win, I'm taking Willie and Eagle Hill Cemetery. If I lose, I'll just take MY people and use them in a story about the Mafia--- plenty of rich family history, unsolved mysteries, disappearances, and deaths galore!)

And for those of you who didn't care for the occasional randiness of Lara Parker's book, you WILL be happier, for the most part. There IS some sex, but very little graphic stuff (I assume my readers know about the birds'n'bees) until it's time to get rough in the last part-- PG-13 DOES turn to "R", but again, there's no detailed grunt-by-groan descriptions, even here. (This isn't meant as a major slam of "Angelique's Descent", much of which I liked and thought worthwhile. This is to delineate differences and address concerns.)

No gratuitous gore, either, ditto--- I believe the THREAT can be more frightening than the reality, though there IS some bloody violence---just comes with the territory. Everything fits the situations, at

least---writing my own story, I don't have to accommodate actors who want to quit my show, or need to get rid of them, either, by inventing extreme, no-turning-back exits for their characters. Keeps the mortality rate pretty low! Though, as a writer friend once told me, I WOULD have to kill off at least one character I really liked, and preferably one of my creation. It became necessary to bop off SEVERAL. It HURT when I wrote those chapters!

So, in conclusion, I hope you bear with the LENGTH and SCOPE and WORDINESS. It's not as full of "BAM!" as the TV version--- like the first six months of DS, it may drag a bit, but this was necessary to establish characters and most of my major themes, which involve the consequences of choice and decisions, and maturity. After a while, the supernatural payoff starts kicking in. Consider this the "contemplative" side of DS; when you get your fill of the more action-packed fan-fic, and want to cogitate on the deeper aspects, then get

comfortable and lose yourself in MY alternative DS universe!

------------------------------------------------------Lorraine Balint.

ACHTUNG! ATTENCION! As I've stated, ALL characters, places, ideas and plots SPECIFIC to the ORIGINAL "DARK SHADOWS" program are copyrighted by DAN CURTIS PRODUCTIONS. You'll soon learn which of the lot belong to LORRAINE BALINT. The point IS, like Mr. Curtis, I will NOT tolerate any attempts to steal and profit from either venture.</P>

This is STRICTLY a NOT-FOR-PROFIT work of FAN FICTION. (Though if it inspires you to donate to a worthy charity, that's up to you.) Hard

copy of earlier drafts exist, and excerpts have been shown to the ShadowGram/World Of DS ladies, and several of my closest friends, as

well as having been broadcast over the alt.tv.dark_shadows NG.</P>

***Also, a note about some changes I was compelled to make: As I've stated, I tried to fit the jagged pieces of DS continuity together, as huge and frustrating a task as re-assembling Humpty-Dumpty. In this effort, I made a few minor changes of my own, but at least I'll be

upfront about them.

First, I've given Professor Stokes a different college to take time off from teaching. There having been, as of 1968, no "Rockport University" (unless that's where one goes to learn comfy-shoe-making), I've assigned him to a more logical choice, U. Maine at Orono, located approx. 30 miles from the likeliest location of fictional Collinsport, and 10 miles from real-life Ellsworth, which WAS frequently mentioned on the old show, and which is visited in my story. However,I don't think that venerable institution (100 yrs. old this year) has EVER had a parapsychology department! So his specialty is a bizarre cross between comparative religion, astral physics, and abnormal psychology. Almost the same thing, if taken in total.

As a trade-off, I invented a new fictional town, Chartville, and gave some creative names to various Collinsport streets.

In my earliest drafts, the story started in late 1972, which would have allowed David Collins, as played by David Henesey, to be 16, ready to drive and hassle girls for dates. However, as I wanted to fit a Vietnam subplot in, I HAD to back up to 1971. (This cut out some appropo references to Watergate, BTW!) So, I aged David Collins by an extra year, granting him license to cruise and romance (or at least try to) the younger ladies that much sooner.

I also threw in some lyrics at crucial moments, a very Soap-y thing to do. In this part, I've borrowed from Buffy Sainte-Marie ("Until It's Time For You to Go"), the Everley Brothers ("Let It be Me"), Janis Joplin ("Turtle Blues" and "Get It While You Can"), Big Mama Thorton

via Janis Joplin ("Ball and Chain"), Cat Stevens ("Bitterblue", "Oh, Very Young", "RubyLove"), Nilsson ("Remember"),and "What Child Is This?"/"Greensleeves".

Comments? Suggestions? Questions? Insults? (use the latter sparingly!) Please e-mail:

aquilablanco@erols.com

Finally, this book and page are dedicated to the memories of my late brother and late sister, and departed friends:

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,&&&

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are NOT as they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest"

Was NOT spoken of the soul!

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each tomorrow

Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a Hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, however pleasant!

Let the dead past bury its dead!

Act, act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God overhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints in the sands of Time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

sailing over life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing--

learn to labor and learn to wait.

&&Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

&And now, to begin. . .

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care,

But for another gives its ease

And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair. . . . . William Blake

BOOK ONE, PART ONE--- THE COMMONPLACE EVILS--- by LORRAINE BALINT

& &&&CHAPTER ONE

1971---It was an unusually warm October afternoon in Collinsport. Such an afternoon in coastal Maine was sort of an empty present, an Indian Summer type of day without the colored leaves. It was even a little humid, making the insistent, overhanging sea breeze smell seem somewhat rancid.

&"Geez, I thought salt air was supposed to be invigorating. I wonder why itsmells more like a sewer," thought a young girl standing on the porch of a cottage overlooking the bay. She was looking out toward some small fishing boats thatwere heading for the docks almost directly below. "Maybe," she theorized, "that stink comes from the dead fish they don't use-- I'll just bet they just chuck 'em right back into the water down there. . . That's just the solution those inbred

local yokels would take towards Waste Management!"

&

&The girl sighed, and flung herself into an old, musty-smelling loveseat squeezed into a corner of the porch. She was bored, and just recovering from an outburst of temper. Said outburst had been directed at her aunt, with whom she was spending this school year. Spats with her aunt, whom she really loved dearly, occurred seldom. This time,

the girl was felt more confused than justified about having argued

her case.

&The dispute centered around preparations for the little dinner party her aunt had planned for this evening. Earlier in the week, it had been agreed that the niece would prepare the salad, the side dishes, help with the baking, and do a little quick housekeeping besides. No problem there; the girl did these tasks at home, and she liked to cook. Some of the work had been accomplished the day before. When the aunt came home a little early from work on the day of the dinner, she and her niece prepared the main course together. They worked amiably enough; the recipe was an obscure delicacy culled from an antique cookbook inherited from the girl's great-grandmother, and both fussed over the details.

&The real hassle began when the meal was ready. The aunt insisted that her niece "dress up" for the dinner party, as she was about to. The girl said she didn't see the point of it. She could see changing her blouse because there were sauce stains on it. But the thought of putting on the fancy, frilly "sister of the groom" turquoise dress she'd had to wear to her brother's wedding (chosen by her mother, who also snuck it into her suitcase) was, well, gruesome. "What's wrong

with just a fresh blouse? My embroidered jeans didn't get dirty," she pleaded.

&Her aunt looked heavenward (since her niece had arrived, she had been "scanning the skies" quite frequently) and sighed. "Cellie, how many times must I tell you? Our guest is a very old-fashioned sort of fellow, and he's simply used to seeing people dressed up for dinner, as he does himself. But, I swear you'll like him anyway, he's full of those romantic historical stories I know you'll enjoy---just go along with it this one time."

&"Geez, Aunt Jule, you know I look positively pathetic in that baby dress! And those White tights! I don't want to look like a thirteen-year-old just so you could impress your boyfriend!" Cellie declared. Then she stopped, shocked. Her Aunt Julia looked like she was about to cry!

&Her aunt folded her hands like she was about to pray, and when she began to speak again, she made a couple of little choking sounds. "Cellie, sometimes you still talk like a thirteen-year-old, instead of someone nearly eighteen," Julia said hoarsely. She collected herself, and went on. "Mr. Collins is not my boyfriend', as you so elegantly put it. He is, however, my very best friend---"

&Cellie couldn't resist one more dig. "Well, is Hallie's Uncle Elliot your boyfriend, then?" This time her aunt displayed real anger.

&"Cellie, I don't have to discuss this with you at all. That's enough, already.Get in your room, and change into that blasted dress!

I don't want to hear another word, young lady!"

&Cellie thought, "Oh, God, now she's calling me 'young lady'.

I guess she'll be threatening to send me home, and I just barely got here!" This not being herintention, she became abjectly apologetic almost immediately. "Geez, I'm sorry, Aunt Jule, it's just that, we never really , you know , act like an adult and akid together. I forget that I'm not just fighting with my girlfriend, or my mother either. I'm really sorry, and I'll go change into that old dress."

&Julia Hoffman didn't have to be a psychiatrist, or a mother, to understand how largely such seemingly trivial matters loomed with adolescents, and how they tended to over-react to adult admonitions. She knew that Cellie was a little defiant, but, after all, it was almost considered normal teenage behavior, and they'd never really had a serious argument before. So, she said, "Cellie, I AM on the verge of calling your parents and telling them that I'm sending you home. But, I will grant that you have a point about our relationship---- I've never

really had the full-time care of a young person before. Look, go change into the dress, be polite to Mr. Collins, and we'll discuss these matters in the morning, before I make my final decision."

&That was how Cellie, dressed in her scratchy, ruffled frock, ended up sprawled on the musty little sofa on the porch of her aunt's ocean-cliff cottage. She couldn't believe that she had let the argument get out of hand like that. It should not have, because of the sensations she had experienced as soon as she taunted her aunt about Mr. Collins. They were part of a phenomenon Cellie had been getting used to since

shortly before her thirteenth birthday, almost five years ago.

&It wasn't a pain exactly, more like a pressure, though at times it could become acute, as it had in the moment before Julia almost burst into tears. The sensation was accompanied by, not exactly hallucinations, but flashes of different colors when Cellie blinked her eyes. It wasn't an illness; without giving out too many details, she had, over the years, dropped subtle hints about her "symptoms"

to her parents and teachers. She had been examined, interviewed, and tested by a platoon of physicians and psychologists, who pronounced her both healthy and sane, though "highly sensitive to her environment."

&It was much more than that. Cellie was empathic, able to sense, and (after some practice) identify what people were feeling, almost before they were aware of it themselves. This ability, which only lately Cellie had been learning to control, was strongest when she felt close to someone, although she could pick up, or "read" as she called it, strong tremors of emotion from strangers. Over time, she

could classify the different emotions, even if they weren't openly expressed, by the colors she saw during her "rainbow spells", her name for her "condition'.

&For example, she saw anger, not as red, but as a gas flame, blue-violet with a queer yellow flicker, which varied in intensity, like the pilot light on a stove: the more yellow, the more anger. Envy, which often ran together with frustration, was not green, but a mauve-grey; hope was green. Red was the color reserved for love, from the gentle rose of altruism, through the bright pink of parental affection,

through the deeper, shinier reds of romantic love. This was the color Cellie felt when she chided her Aunt with Mr. Collins's name.

&Why she had to go further and drag her friend's uncle's name into it----Cellie couldn't understand herself. Her ability had, over the years, made her more sympathetic and restrained for the most part; it had certainly made Cellie back off from disputes with her parents and her older brother. However, it couldn't completely override her streak of perversity, or her occasional use of her talent to advance her own interests.

&Cellie could sense attractions between her friends and members of the opposite sex, and would, if it was to her advantage, arrange "accidental" encounters for interested parties. If all went well, Cellie received the spoils of their gratitude (one satisfied "customer" offered to swipe the answer sheet for the math exam, but she wasn't about to go that far.) Still, her talent had its limitations. She was not telepathic; Cellie could "read" emotions, but she still had to make her best guess about her subject's thoughts and motivations. She came to know that how people felt was frequently at odds with how they thought and acted. (This was often a good thing, but Cellie felt frustrated when she believed it wasn't.) And she wasn't clairvoyant; she couldn't predict the outcome of her machinations. Then there were those people who either could not or would not be "read"; some could hide or masquerade their true feelings very well, almost as if they knew they might be read. (Cellie believed that her psychiatrist aunt's years of professional discretion had blocked her from "reading" Julia's emotions until now.)

&As Cellie went along, though, her successes exceeded her failures. She had taken full advantage of her parents' guilt over their impending divorce, in order to move in with her aunt. Cellie was not just looking for freedom; she needed to escape the constant interplay of negative emotions, which made her physically exhausted. And now, she had almost gone and spoiled the whole arrangement with her tantrum!

&Her petty anger at Julia spent, Cellie pondered how she could help her aunt, whom she truly loved (and in whom she had hoped to confide about the scope of her "rainbow spells.") For, even when she had ulterior motives, Cellie did enjoy helping others with her "talent." As a child, she'd brought home stray kittens and wounded birds; when she discovered her ability, she simply expanded her venue to include human subjects.

& For all her manipulations on behalf of her friends, Cellie wasn't too knowledgeable about the Love thing as it applied to herself, never mind a mature lady like her aunt. Oh, she'd had some dates, to movies, dances, and school sporting events, but nothing clicked; her parent's warnings that she was too young to get serious with anyone seemed almost superfluous. Cellie was only sure of two things: That when she found someone, he would have to be easy to "read", and that he wouldn't mind it, well, too much (She believed in being honest with a prospective husband.)

&Cellie believed that day was a long way off; in the meantime, there was Julia's problem to deal with. There was the question of Hallie Stokes's Uncle Elliot, who was a professor on sabbatical from Maine U. at Orono. He lived up the street with his orphaned niece, who was in a couple of Cellie's classes at Collinsport High School. Hallie had become Cellie's first Collinsport friend, and the two not only shared free time together, they both got cashier jobs on the same shift at the new Eagle Superette Grocery Store. Hallie and her uncle often came to the Hoffman cottage (which Julia had leased in anticipation of Cellie's visit, after a long sojourn as a houseguest on the Collins estate.) Elliot Stokes was consulting with Julia about the book he was writing about the psychiatric implications of occult practices At

least, that was his stated intention; after an hour of reference-checking, he would stay and have tea with Julia while the two girls walked up and down the road. While gossiping with Hallie, Cellie thought about her aunt and Elliot, who, she had sensed, had increasingly red feelings toward Julia.

&Oh, well, Cellie reflected, while she sat on the porch waiting for Mr. Collins, perhaps her aunt would be more forthcoming about these matters when they had their talk in the morning. She looked at her watch. "Geez, it's after seven already," she thought to herself.

"When will the guest of honor arrive?" It had gotten a little cooler, finally--- the sun had gone down --- and Cellie rose and turned

toward the door. She was going to ask if her aunt had a sweater or shawl that would go with the dress. ("Hide it completely," was her real thought.) Her hand was on the latch, when she heard a car come down their street, and then a large station wagon pulled into the driveway, next to Julia's green Volkswagen Beetle.

&"Aunt Jule! Are you ready? I think he's here!" Cellie called to her aunt, who was still in her bedroom.

&"Greet him, bring him in, and offer him something to drink---I'll be out soon!" came the muffled reply from behind the closed door.

&Cellie walked down a step, then saw two men emerge from the station wagon. One was older, well-dressed, wearing an unusual cape, and carrying a cane with a shiny handle. The other was younger, long-haired, casually dressed in a grey sweater and jeans. Cellie thought he looked vaguely familiar; then she realized, he was one of her least favorite customers who often came down her cashier aisle at the Superette. The two seemed to be arguing quietly as they came up the wooden walkway stairs from the driveway (though the yard was small,

the house was set on a hill about twenty feet above the street.)

&Cellie became uneasy. She had been expecting one man, but the sight of the other, who'd made her so uncomfortable at work, and the fact that he WAS acquainted with her aunt's "friend", made her step back up, and into the house. She locked the screen door, a rather absurd precaution. The older man was the first to mount the steps, and stood before her. Cellie studied his appearance up close: he was sort of good-looking, though his face was pale; but his eyes had a sad, gentle expression. He wasn't as tall as he'd seemed from a distance, but his way of carrying himself increased his stature. His layered cape, Cellie thought, reminded her of something Sherlock Holmes might wear, and his cane's shiny handle, it turned out, was tipped with a silver wolf's head. On the hand that held the cane, he wore a heavy gold ring, set with a large oval onyx, on his index finger.

&Cellie must have been standing and staring for a bit too long. The older man finally spoke first. With just a hint of impatience in his voice, he said, "Barnabas Collins at your service, young lady." His deep voice had an English accent. "You are Miss Cecily Hoffman, I presume? Your Aunt Julia is expecting me for dinner."

&Cellie found her voice. "Ye-yes, Mr. Collins. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were bringing a friend---" She could feel her face turn red.

&"Ah, you mean my employee, Mr. Loomis," Barnabas replied.

"I was just about to explain---"

&Julia called from the bedroom, "Is he here, yet, Cellie? Who are you talking to out there? I'm coming out!"

&Cellie hastily unlocked the screen door and opened it for the two men. Julia emerged from her room just as they stepped in. Her niece noticed that she was wearing the rose-colored silk blouse and dove-grey linen skirt that she'd worn to Cellie's brother's wedding (and which Cellie had admired as much as she despised her own outfit.) The colors softened the angles of Julia's face, and made it seem less pale, while subduing the wine-red tone of her hair. (Cellie wished her turquoise frock would do the same for her own fiery tresses.)

&Julia cried out, "Barnabas, it's so wonderful to see you again! How are you?" and nearly ran to his arms. Cellie, standing aside, felt like her chest had been hit with a blunt instrument, and a kaleidoscope of colors whirled inside her eyelids, whenever she blinked. First, she "saw" her aunt's emotion--- bright, shiny, fire-engine red. There was no doubt about what that meant.

&Mr. Collins's reaction was as interesting as it was confusing. When he had first arrived, Cellie found that he would not be "read"---well, for a brief moment, she managed to sense a deep midnight blue, the sign of deep, long-term sorrow. Then it passed. But now, with his defenses down, Cellie saw a maddening mixture. The dark blue was ever-present, but flashes of mauve, green, orange flickered; and, floating

up every now and then, like a bay leaf in a large soup-pot, a strong red light came and went. "Why, he's absolutely seething," thought Cellie, as she watched them embrace. "I think that he really does love her,

in his own way."

& While Cellie pondered about the possible reasons why they didn't act on their feelings, Julia stepped back from Barnabas, who replied, "I am very well, though in England, the dampness brought me a little ache now and then. It wasn't enough to spoil my trip, of which I will tell more later. I would like to apologize for being a little late.

My car broke down in front of the Antique Shoppe. I had it towed to the garage, and Willie left Carolyn alone at the Shoppe temporarily, in order to give me a lift up here."

"You're not a bit late," Julia said, happily. (Cellie was

amazed---was her usually cool-and-collected aunt actually simpering?) "The food is warming in the oven. I haven't formally introduced you to my niece, Cecily. She's my brother Walter's daughter, from Boston. I wrote you about the circumstances of her visit here."

&"I had the opportunity of chatting a bit with your lovely niece." His voice became quieter. "I'm sorry about her parents' troubles---it's a most unfortunate thing. Sadly, it's becoming more common these days." He said this carefully, while glancing gently towards Cellie. She was really starting to like the man---he said she was "lovely" as if he really meant it, he didn't mention how she'd kept him waiting on the porch, and she knew, after having "read" him, that someone

who'd endured as much sorrow as she believed he had, would probably treat the subject of her parents' divorce with kindness and tact.

&"Barnabas," said Willie Loomis from the doorway, where he had stood, forgotten during the excitement of the reunion. "What time shall I pick you up?" He had a soft voice with a light Northeastern accent---Cellie couldn't figure outif he was from Maine or Vermont.

&Julia spoke. "Willie, you went to all the trouble of bringing Barnabas. Unless you have other plans, I'd like you to stay and have dinner," she offered. Cellie reflected that it was pretty generous of her aunt to open what she'd obviously planned as an exclusive evening of cultivating Mr. Collins.

&Willie looked at Barnabas, with whom he'd had a small disagreement aboutwork on the way to the cottage. "I--I don't think so, Julia." He looked nervously from Julia to Barnabas, of whom, Cellie was surprised to sense, he seemed somewhat afraid. "You see, Carolyn is still holding down the fort at the Antique Shoppe, and I was planning on taking inventory of the estate sale things I picked up in Bangor last week. Seems I just keep putting it off, " he said unhappily.

&Cellie studied him. He was shorter than Barnabas, and looked thin, but that may have been because he had on such a baggy sweater. His light, fine hair framed a round, boyish-looking face, though Cellie guessed he was at least thirty. His anxious expression was, Cellie thought, a perfect reflection of his inner feelings.

&He was a surprisingly easy "read." Cellie's insides fluttered, and she saw many flashes of the "pilot lights" of anger, of varying intensity, flaring a little when he looked at Barnabas. These were followed by the mauve tones of envy and frustration. Cellie believed that Mr.Loomis---Willie ("What a name for a grown man," she thought)---might be dangerous, and she became anxious. Then he looked directly at Cellie, and, for the second time that evening, felt like she'd had

the wind knocked out of her.

&She saw orange weaving around his other colors. This was lust, she knew. She had come to sense it in even the shyest of her dates, though she seldom felt it herself. She tolerated it, up to the point when a boy got insistent, and then she'd stop seeing him. She had taken on the surface sophistication of her Boston friends, but she really didn't didn't feel ready to deal with lust yet, and she didn't like sensing it in Mr. Loomis, either. She remembered the last time

he got into her checkout line. He kept staring at her in a way he apparently thought she wouldn't notice, and now he was practically leering at her. Well, with her aunt and his boss present, Cellie

doubted there'd be any trouble tonight, at any rate.

&Then, suddenly, the orange was gone, and Cellie again saw mauve-grey, this time with a little red, and those sad midnight blues . This indicated confusion and uncertainty to her. Mr. Loomis must have felt it was hopeless after all, Cellie thought, and she didn't feel afraid any more. She began to feel a little sorry for him, standing there as though waiting for a jury verdict, so she smiled at him in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. He half-smiled back, and Cellie suddenly thought he looked rather cute. She believed he was dying to stay to dinner (she had seen enough of his paltry grocery orders to know that he'd probably only have a sandwich to see him through a long night of inventory-taking.) "What to do?" she thought, then her aunt spoke.

&"Oh, Barnabas it's seven-thirty. Why can't Willie call Carolyn and tell her to close the Shoppe a little early this one time, so that he can stay to eat? Then he can go back to do his inventory. I'll take you down to the Shoppe afterward, and Willie can bring you home from there."

&"Well, Julia, if you don't feel imposed on, I suppose we can do that," Barnabas replied. He turned to Willie. "Go ahead and call Carolyn, and be sure to remind her to pick up some office supplies when she goes to Ellsworth tomorrow."

&Cellie could feel Willie's lightening of mood (though his expression didn't change at first) as he answered, "Thank you, Barnabas," and went over to the phone in the tiny parlor of the cottage. Julia beckoned to Cellie, who went into the kitchen, and carried out the various dishes, setting them on the oversized table, already set, which filled the small dining area. Cellie looked toward Willie, who was almost beaming as he hung up the phone. There was no partition between the dining room and the parlor, and he came up directly toward Cellie. She got nervous again, and moved nearer to her aunt, who was pouring champagne into four goblets on a side table.

&Julia announced, "Before we sit down to dinner, I'd like to propose a toast. Cellie can join in this one time." Cellie handed the glasses to Barnabas and Willie, who, apparently concerned that his attentions to the girl might be noticed, tried not to look at her much. With her glass raised, Julia continued, "May we never be parted for long, and always return safely to our friends from our journeys." They

all took a sip from their glasses. Then Barnabas spoke.

&"I would like to toast our hostess, my dearest friend, may our friendship continue to grow and deepen for many years to come, and may our acquaintance with her charming niece prove as rewarding." Barnabas and Julia drained their glasses, while Cellie still sipped tentatively, not sure she liked the dry, sweetish grapey fizz. She did like the warm feeling that began to fill her inside. She observed that Willie had stopped with the second sip. Then they sat at the table---Julia sat across from Cellie and moved her chair closer to Barnabas, who sat across from Willie. Cellie made a point of leaning away from Willie. She didn't have any idea of where she wanted this little game with him to go, and she wasn't about to encourage him. Anyway, she wanted to listen to Barnabas and Julia, and try to figure out where their

friendship was headed.

&There was little small talk as they passed around the salad, and bread that Cellie had baked the night before. Both Barnabas and Willie complimented her when Julia told them that Cellie had made the bread and elaborate salad, with what Cellie called her "secret recipe dressing" The main course was a beef dish that Julia had adapted from her grandmother's recipe, with the sauce that had stained her niece's blouse. To accompany that, Cellie had invented a spicy potato dish, which, to her surprise, was a hit with their guests. Willie, she noticed, had a real taste for the stuff, and it looked as if there would be none left over.

&Over dessert and coffee, Julia drew back from Barnabas as he conversed with her niece. She watched Willie, who sat back in his chair and calmly surveyed the scene. Julia thought she'd seen him looking at Cellie, and she was a bit uneasy. She remembered those days, not so far in the past, when Willie's behavior around women was cause for concern: she'd heard of his obnoxious activities when he first arrived in

Collinsport. Then he had "encountered" Barnabas, and Barnabas's vampire curse had dictated Willie's later actions. Barnabas's detrimental influence had evaporated when the curse was lifted, and, Willie's whole attitude was seemingly transformed.

&He and Barnabas had become sort of friendly. Barnabas trusted Willie to help with the antique business he and Carolyn Stoddard Hawkes had begun to fill the void left by the destruction of an earlier such establishment (as well as the deaths of its owners.) Carolyn

had insisted on Willie's participation. And Willie's social life, after one disappointment, had evaporated also. (No other outcome was likely; the weeks-long depression he'd suffered then, precluded his return to a hospital janitor's job he'd held in Portland, and the relative anonymity he'd enjoyed there. No respectable woman in Collinsport would give Willie the time of day, outside his immediate acquaintance.) As far as Julia knew, his whole life revolved around the Shoppe. She sighed, deciding that Willie was simply looking at her niece as he would at any pretty girl, and, hopefully, Cellie would dismiss his attentions.

&In any case, Cellie wasn't paying attention to Willie. She was engaged in an animated discussion with Barnabas. He asked her, "So, are you planning to study for a medical career like your aunt?"

&Cellie thought a moment before she answered. "Well, Mr. Collins, it just may be that psychiatry or, at least, psychology, may be my calling. I sort of know a lot about how people are feeling---you could call it intuition, or something." She sighed. "But I also love studying history---I even like reading the dry, boring stuff about politics. I might consider making history my major, if I should discover a demand for history instructors."

&Barnabas smiled. "Well, Cellie, I've been reading some contemporary historical books, and there seems to be a market for both historians with psychological insights, and psychologists with historical perspective. I daresay you will find your niche."

&"My aunt tells me that you have an impressive knowledge of history, Mr. Collins," Cellie said. "Especially local history, and English history. When you were in England, did you tour the better-known historical sites, mostly, or did you get out to the countryside?"

&"I was fortunate enough to have time enough for both," Barnabas replied. As your aunt may have told you, I am from England, but, like many people who've spent their lives in what are considered to be tourist attractions, I seldom had occasion to visit any. However, after having lived here for some time, I returned to my old home, as eager as

any first-time visitor. I spent some time in London, touring the Tower, the cathedrals, palaces, museums--- places you've seen in books. They are quite impressive, of course, but I found my forays into the provinces just as interesting.

&"I spent a week in the ancestral village of the Collins family, in the Norfolk area. I met some distant relatives, who pointed out a half-timbered style cottage where the first Collinses to come to the New World, Nathaniel and Isaac, were born. I was introduced to the lady of the house, who was happy to show me around the place. It was built around 1510, on the site of an older Collins home that had stood there since the Norman Conquest. Unfortunately, the older house had burned to the ground. She led me to the church, where a certain Sir

Jacobus Collins, who died in 1440, had a carved effigy of himself in full armor erected over his tomb inside. But I found my living relatives just as interesting as the memorial brasses of the deceased ones. They still live very simply for these modern times, but are

healthy, sensible, well-humored, and, to my surprise, a decidedly unsuperstitious lot."

&`Cellie asked, "Why were you surprised?"

&Barnabas answered carefully, "Because, my dear Cellie, ever since the first Collins arrived in New England almost three-hundred fifty years ago, my family, and our estate, have been considered the locus of supernatural phenomena of all kinds--- from ghosts and witchcraft, to even more exotic and unpleasant events. My English relatives have heard about the reputations of those they call their "Poor Puritan cousins across the Pond." They theorize that it may have something

to do with an excess of family pride, a lot of gossip and coincidence, and, perhaps, divine vengeance for early offenses committed by Nathaniel against the Indians."

&"Wouldn't it be neat if there was some way one could find out for sure?" Cellie asked, dreamily. "I mean, it wouldn't help the past Collinses any, but if a situation arose today, there might be a resolution."

&Barnabas looked at her a little warily, and replied, "Such a prospect is as improbable as it is interesting, and, anyway, I haven't heard of any problem atCollinwood lately, that would demand such a resolution."

&Cellie had sensed his unease at her light-hearted proposition, but was determined to show friendly interest. "I guess you're right, Mr. Collins--"

&Barnabas offered, "Please, call me Barnabas."

&Cellie understood that to be a disarming tactic, but accepted it, for what it was worth. "--Barnabas. In any case, I would sure enjoy reading some local history."

&Barnabas offered, "I would be delighted to share some of my private collection with you, Cellie. I have material you won't find in a library. If your schoolwork and job schedule allow, you are always welcome to visit the Antique Shoppe. Call me at my home, and I'll bring you some books. I take it you haven't been down to the shoppe since you've been here?"

&She replied, "My Aunt Jule wanted to wait 'til you were back so you could show me around."

&"Well, I suppose Carolyn or Willie could have guided you. Carolyn, at least, has become very knowledgeable about many of the items. But it's true that I have expertise in some of the older pieces you might be interested in. We could start tomorrow afternoon, after you finish your shift at the Superette, though any day would be fine. I'm usually in after eleven, inspecting the inventory and checking the books."

&Willie squirmed a little in his chair at this point, and Cellie again felt his resentment. Did Barnabas believe Willie was stealing from him? she wondered. She answered, in what she hoped was a friendly voice. "Tomorrow would be fine, Barnabas. I get out of work at four-thirty. I just cashed my check yesterday, and I'll take any opportunity to shop!"

&"Of course. I'll see you around five, then."

&"Barnabas, it's a pleasant night, why don't we take our coffee out on the porch?" Julia suggested.

&"That would be fine, Julia. " Barnabas rose, cup in hand. He went out the front door.

& Cellie offered, "I'll stay in and start cleaning up." She thought her aunt and Barnabas should spend some time alone.

&Willie said, "I'll carry in some dishes for her, then I'll be on my way."

&Julia looked at him like she was about to protest, but said, instead, "Well, don't take too long, Willie. I'll set the coffee things on the little table outside." She went into the kitchen, followed by Cellie, who carried a couple of plates to the sink. She whispered to her niece, "Just keep an eye on him." Cellie watched her go out again, coffee pot and trivet in hand.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

&Out on the front porch, Julia poured more coffee for Barnabas and herself, then sat across from him. She kept thinking of little ways to avoid gazing at him with anticipation; she lit a cigarette, drew her sweater around herself, glanced into the house now and then, and took yet more coffee. Still, she always came back to watching him, whenever it seemed he was trying not to look at her. The moon was bright, and it cast shadows which emphasized the lines and hollows of his gaunt face, but to Julia, this evidence of his blessedly normal aging process made him even more attractive. (Quite unlike the rolls and wattles of Elliot's face, though his twinkling eyes and warm smile could be appealing.)

&"So, you were uncomfortable in England, in spite of the interesting surroundings?" she began.

&"I'm afraid so, Julia," Barnabas replied. "Ah, rheumatism. . . another one of the joys of normalcy," he joked ruefully. "Not that I'm really complaining, but it did detract from my pleasure in the trip to my, er, 'native land.' Thank heavens there were still enough of the landmarks I remembered from when I visited there on my Grand Tour in 1784! Plus, I took the opportunity to see if there was any necessity to doctor some more documents. Fortunately, my passport DID pass muster with the authorities. Europeans are such sticklers for I.D. papers, what with all the coming and going between the countries."

&"That's not a major problem in this country, at least---"

&"At least, so long as nobody checks up on me too deeply," he sighed. "With any luck, there will never be a need for anyone to investigate me again. I want to enjoy what's left of this mortal life we both worked so hard to regain, lonely as it's been sometimes. Lonely as it's been, since you decided to move out of Collinwood, and declined to join me on my trip. Mind you, I'm not complaining about your wardship of your niece. But you were already planning to move, before you agreed to take her on."

&"I had to leave, Barnabas," Julia said. "Elizabeth would have liked me to stay on forever. But I had to be independent again. Plus, travelling to work from Widow's Hill Road was a challenge in bad weather. But I stayed in Collinsport! I like it here, and it's good for Cellie."

&"She could have lived at Collinwood, like Hallie and Amy Jennings did."

&Julia's face darkened. "No, I doubt that would have been such a good idea.You've seen, as I have, the kind of things that can happen to young girls in that place! It eats them alive, I think. Hallie and Amy are well out of there. Even if nothing's happened up there since we fixed things earlier this year, I feel more comfortable raising my niece in a neutral zone. I made a point in the past, of not getting my family involved in what we were going through at the time. At least this way, I don't have to worry about what might happen between Cellie and David. She's met him in school, and she seems to like him somewhat. Still. . . I'm not saying he'd cause trouble for her, but he's not a little boy anymore, and she's hardly a child, either---"

&"No, and it's to her credit. I'm sorry you feel that way about Collinwood, Julia. You and I had some pleasant times there, after our travails were over. I daresay, Cellie would have. She's obviously keen on history. She's not exactly demure, that I will say, but neither does she strike me as being giddy or heedless. She seems like the type who can fend off unwelcome advances, though, perhaps, if she becomes better acquainted with David, she might not find his unwelcome. IF they're honorable, of course! I'm sure she's going to be a lady of great

character---like her aunt."

&"Thank you for that compliment."

&"I don't give you enough compliments, Julia," Barnabas said. "Considering what you've done for me in the past, with so little

reward---" He leaned toward her.

&Julia also leaned forward, eagerly. Perhaps this would be the time. . . If only she was sitting next to him on the loveseat. She could reach for his hand, and---

&"But you are getting some rewards now, having the delightful company of your niece, a resurgent career, and Elliot's

companionship. . .How are you two faring, since I've been gone? Has he proposed again, Julia?" Now Barnabas sank back in the loveseat. There was a sound of resignation in his voice.

&"Well. . . " Julia replied on a sigh. "We do spend a lot of time together, doing research for his book. Elliot's become softer, and a bit less full of himself, since he's had to deal with Hallie's problems without Elizabeth's intervention. He can be good company. I'm not sure it's enough to marry on, though!"

&"He loves you. He told me as much, before I departed." Now Barnabas sighed. "Maybe it would be prudent for you to accept him, Julia. I do know how fond you are of me. I will always be fond of you. But you know how it is with us. Upon the least excuse, I become Don Quixote, mounting my tired hobby-horse, and tearing after whoever I fancy as my Dulcinea. I confess, I was somewhat attracted to that daughter of Elizabeth's college friend, who visited Carolyn this past summer. Mercifully, I discovered her lack of depth before I made the mistake of acting on the feeling. I am getting older, but little wiser. The risk remains. It's a pesky holdover of my former condition. Even if you can accept it, I should not like to violate our mutual respect by foisting it upon you. Elliot would never betray you in that manner. Go on with your life, Julia. Marry him. We will all still be friends."

&"I'll consider it," she said quietly. After few minutes, she glanced at her watch, and said, "All this talk of risky romance and unwelcome advances has made me realize--- Willie still hasn't gone, yet! He was only supposed to clear the table and bring the dishes to Cellie to wash. He obviously didn't go out through the back door. We would have seen, and heard him drive away."

&"Oh, Julia, you don't think he's doing anything to Cellie! As I observed before, she hardly seems the sort to suffer a fool gladly, and, well, there are few more foolish than Willie."

&"I don't know what to think! He may be reverting to what I've been told were some of his old ways. It's been nearly a year since your curse was removed for good. You feel normal these days, and that's just fine. But in HIS case, true normalcy might be risky."

&"He hasn't been around ANY woman since his fiancee left him," Barnabas said. "Believe me, if he had, and I didn't find out for myself, Carolyn would, and she'd report it to me."

&"That's just what I'm worried about. I'm going in to check on them." Julia picked up the now-empty coffee pot with a decisive motion.

&"Be calm, Julia. Ask Cellie to come out here, even if the dishes aren't finished. We have a rapport. Perhaps I can help you deal with her, as I know I'll have to deal with Willie."

&Julia went back into the cottage.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

&When Julia had first left the kitchen, Willie came in, bearing more dishes, to where Cellie was already washing and stacking the first installment.

&He said, "I really appreciated the meal. I'll stay a while and help you clean up some." He waved Cellie to one side, rolled up his sleeves, and began to wash and stack the dishes in a methodical manner, while she dried.

& The thoroughness with which Willie washed each dish made Cellie remark, "You don't have to sterilize them. We won't be needing them in surgery or anything." For a second, he looked as though he might get angry, but she smiled at him in her most appealing manner. He relaxed, and gazed at her in much the same way as he did at the store. She turned her face toward the stack of clean dishes.

&Cellie said, "I'm sorry I said that. Thanks for the help, Mr. Loomis." She felt uncomfortable.

&"That's okay. It was kind of funny. Please, call me Willie," he answered, handing her another dish.

&Cellie brightened a bit. "No, I don't think I'll call you Willie."

&He looked a little hurt. "Why not?"

&"If you don't mind, I'll call you Will instead. No offense, but I think 'Willie' is kind of a silly name for a mature man. In fact," Cellie said, mischievously, "If I were you, I'd insist on being called 'Will' or 'William.'"

&"Oh, I should, should I?" Willie smiled. "Well, I happen to think 'Cellie' is a silly name for a grown-up young woman, and I'd like to call you Cecily---" he faltered, "if you don't mind."

&"Of course I don't mind," she said reassuringly. "It sounds so nice when you say it." He looked more cheerful. Cellie continued, "Where do you come from, Will? I can't place your accent."

&"From Vermont, originally," he answered hastily. Cellie sensed his reticence, so she tried another tack.

&"Well, what did you do before you came to Collinsport? For a living, I mean?"

&"I've done all kinds of jobs. I even worked on ships that went all over theworld. You could say I've been all over the place, ever since I was in the Army. . . his voice trailed off.

&Cellie prodded, "I take it you had some trouble in the Army?" She couldn'tunderstand why it suddenly became so important, but she had to know. She got a blast of blue-yellow sensation.

&Willie had a plate in his hand, and started to shake it. Cellie was afraid he'deither throw it or break it.

&

&"Yes, Cecily, I had a lot of trouble---I was always getting into fights, and oneday I fought with the wrong guy---I got thrown out! And, since you're so curious, I've done plenty of things that weren't very nice, and I've been in and out of jail since I was a kid! I made a lot of messes since I got here, that I tried to clean up. Some of the people I made trouble for, gave me another chance. I do the best I can, but it's been hard, getting people to trust me. I'm surprised Julia and Barnabas haven't come back in here to find out why I'm not gone yet." Willie sighed. "I'd just rather not talk about that stuff anymore."

&When she felt he was truly calmer, Cellie said, "I'm really sorry, Will, I didn't mean to sound so nosy. What you did in the past is past." (Even as she said this, Cellie knew it would take some work to believe it herself.) "I've had my problems, too, you know? My parents splitting up and all. It's not much compared to what you've been through, but I was just asking a simple question."

&"I'm sorry, too, Cecily, I just get touchy when someone brings it up, you didn't mean any harm. Let's talk about something else," he suggested, while picking up the plate he'd been shaking when he first got angry--- Cellie hadbeen so anxious, she hadn't even noticed at what point he'd laid it down!

&"I've seen you a lot at the Superette," she began hesitantly. "You seem to prefer coming down my checkout aisle."

&"Yeah, it makes it easier to spend all that money, knowing I'm going to hand it over to a classy lady like you," Willie answered easily enough.

&"That's why I wore this swell dress," Cellie joked, "I was hoping to impress an important customer like you."

&"You look real nice in that dress, no kidding," he said sincerely. "It really brings out the color of your hair. I like red hair. " He pointed to Cellie's waist-length braid. "You should wear your hair loose."

&"I would, but it gets into everything, yet I would really hate to cut it," she replied.

&"I'll bet all the boys follow you around, the way you look." Willie suddenlyturned red. He studied the plate in his hand. "Got any boyfriends?" As soon as he asked this, he blushed darker. "I'm--I'm sorry. I don't know if I should have asked you that. You don't have to tell me, I guess."

&"That's okay. It's not a state secret. Nothing is in a small town, it seems. Besides, you just told me something really upsetting, and see? I took it pretty well."

&"Well, just to be fair, I'll tell you first, I'm not married or divorced or engaged or--or anything at all." Willie turned away from Cellie, and dunked the plate he held into the soapy water. The girl saw mauve-grey around him--- felt the surge of his frustration.

&She replied, sympathetically, "I'm not seeing anyone special, either. After all, I haven't been here too long. I hang out with my girlfriend Hallie Stokes mostly, but this guy named Jack Knowlton takes me to the movies and the pizza place. " Cellie caught Willie's eye, and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not pizza-crazy like all the other kids. It's hard living in a town with no Chinese restaurant. I just love Chinese food."

&"There's one in Ellsworth, I think" Willie said, sounding more confident. "Hallie Stokes. . .I know her some, from when she lived at Collinwood for a while at the time I did, when I worked for Barnabas there, before we got the Antique Shoppe. And Jack--- I know his

folks---you have to watch out for these local guys." Cellie thought he talked about Jack a little too fast, but he changed the subject again. "You go to Collinsport High. . . did you ever meet David Collins?

He must be, what, sixteen by now? He goes there."

&"Yes, Hallie introduced us. He seems pretty cool. But we don't see him much; he's on the football team, and he's, like, a year-and-a-half younger, besides."

&"I guess things haven't changed much since I dropped out of school, what with the different 'clicks' keeping to themselves." Willie sighed.

&"Will, do you ever regret dropping out? You could go to night school and finish," Cellie suggested, "if it bothers you."

&"It doesn't really bother me too much," he replied. "Maybe someday I'll go, if the right person helps me. . . I got a lot to do, with the Shoppe, and Barnabas. . ." His voice trailed off again. "It's hard, working with Barnabas, sometimes."

&Cellie gently inquired, so as not to provoke him, "What does that mean?"

&"I think you know, already. He acts like I steal from him, or something. . . Well, the truth is, I lose stuff, or forget where I left it, more like. He knows that!"Willie seemed on the verge of getting angry again, but cut himself off so abruptly, Cellie became confused. But she didn't interrupt his recital. "Look, I shouldn't complain," he continued. "Barnabas and me, we go back a ways. We get along okay for the most part, but he's not used to owning a business, I guess. He lost track while he was on his trip, and he can get real nit-picky. . . Like I said, it's hard, sometimes, with Barnabas. Someday, maybe, I'll tell you about how I got involved with him. . . But I'll be okay, I guess." He handed her the last dish, which she dried, and stowed in the proper cabinet.

&Cellie thanked Willie for his help. He said, "It's been really nice, talking to you like this. I don't talk much with anyone anymore, except Carolyn at the Shoppe, once in a while. You know, she told me Julia had her niece living with her. I didn't pay a lot of attention at the time. I thought she was talking about a young kid, I guess. I sure didn't know it was YOU. I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to really talk to you." He turned red again.

&Cellie replied, "When I started noticing that you were jumping into my checkout line so often, I confess that I DID ask Hallie if she knew who you were, and she said, 'Oh, that's just Willie Loomis. Don't worry, he won't give you any trouble. He just, um, likes to WATCH, like he needs to see you're doing it just right'." Cellie smiled at Willie quickly, to forestall any negative reaction to this anecdote. He just shrugged. "She DID say you worked at Collinwood, and then, at the antique place. I'm sorry I didn't own up to the knowledge sooner, but she didn't go into much detail, anyway. I guess we'd have met, sooner or later. But when you came up our driveway, it took me a minute to get used to the fact it was you. . . I certainly had no idea we'd get so well-acquainted."

&"Is that supposed to be good, or what?"

&"Good, I think. It's been nice, talking with you." Nicer than she'd expected, she thought, in spite of some of the things he'd said. But then, she figured, maybe his were just standard grievances. God knew she had plenty of her own, about her own job at the Superette, and yet, she stuck with it.

&Willie said, "You talk to me like it really means something to you."

&"It does, Will." Cellie glanced at him, then looked toward the floor. She felt her face turn red.

&"'Will and Cecily'. I like the sound of that." He took her hand in one of his, and touched her face with the other. Cellie was flustered, especially since she began seeing oranges and reds behind her eyelids. But he wasn't pulling her, and she wasn't scared. He lowered his face near hers and kissed her---on her cheek. For a moment, he looked as though he was about to kiss her on the lips, when they heard

a noise. Cellie stepped back quickly, pulling her hand from his. Her Aunt stood in the doorway, with the empty coffee pot in her hand.

&"Willie," Julia said, with a slightly annoyed tone, "We were wondering why you're still here." She had an accusing look, and Cellie could sense the hackles rising in both her aunt and her new friend. She spoke up quickly.

&"Mr. Loomis stayed a while to help me with the dishes, in appreciation of being asked to dinner. We got all of them done, dried, and put away, in record time. We talked about work and school and stuff. He comes into the Superette quite often, so we're sort of acquainted." I hope she buys that, thought Cellie, who was fighting hard not to turn red again. After all, they hadn't done anything wrong!

&Willie looked at Cellie for the briefest moment out of the corner of his eye, and with an effort, calmly added, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to stay so long, but there were a lot of dishes. I didn't think it would take too much time to help her wash them. I'm going now. Thanks again, Julia, for dinner, and good night. And you too, Cellie." Cellie watched him go out the door with the blankest

expression she could manage. She was secretly proud of the way Willie had controlled his anger.

&Julia considered the situation. She knew she was partly responsible; she didn't want to create a scene, refusing Willie's offer of help outright, in the first place. Willie was a fact of life anyone who knew Barnabas had to deal with, sooner or later, and it didn't pay to put him on the defensive. She didn't think his help for Cellie was just a friendly gesture, but the dishes were all done, so it was obvious that nothing else could have happened in the past twenty minutes. She wondered if Cellie was interested in Willie. He didn't seem the type to appeal to a normal young girl, but Cellie had shown a streak of rebellion lately. Julia began to think that it might be a good idea to send her niece back home, in spite of her parents' situation.

&Oh, well, Julia thought, I'll tell her in the morning. She asked Cellie, "Are you going to join us on the porch? Barnabas was wondering if you would. I'll make extra coffee."

&"Only for a while, Aunt Jule. Will you need me to go with you when you run Barnabas down to the Antique Shoppe? I'm kinda tired, and work starts tomorrow at ten, and I thought you wanted to talk to me before then."

&Julia thought riding alone with Barnabas might be a good idea--- it would give her a chance to ask him to keep an eye on Willie, when Cellie went down there after work. (She would allow her niece this one treat before she sent her home.) "Of course, you can stay home when I take Barnabas."

&Cellie went out on the porch, carrying a coffee cup. Barnabas stood up whenshe came in. How old-fashioned that is, she thought, and she sat on a wicker chairacross from him. When he was seated, Barnabas said, "I understand that Willie helped you with your chore. He didn't bother you, did he?"

&Cellie answered, with some asperity, "No, he didn't bother me!

I got the same line of questioning from my aunt. We washed the dishes! We talked about stuff. He was pretty nice in a wierd way, but it wasn't a big deal. Poor guy seemed kinda sad to me." She faced Barnabas with a contrite look. "I'm sorry I'm answering you like this, forgive me! It's my fault people find it easy to tell me their problems, I guess."

&Barnabas answered, "No-one's accusing you and Willie of anything. But you are very young, and Willie can be worrisome when he goes looking for sympathy. In some ways, you seem more mature than he. "

&"Well, he told me right away about his jail time and some of the other things.Maybe he didn't want to mislead me about his intentions.

I mean, I feel sorry he's had trouble trying to straighten out his life, but not to the point of having big-time romantic notions of helping him save himself!"

&Barnabas chuckled. "Well, Cellie, that sounds sensible to me.

By the same token, I doubt that Willie could share in your teenage enthusiasms, whatever they are these days. I will, however, speak to him about this, find out 'where he'scoming from', as they say."

&"Well, Barnabas, that's okay, but, like, go easy on him, you know? He didn't do anything wrong today, really. I mean, he didn't even know he was going to stay to dinner in the first place, and it was nice of him to help me. Please?"

&"I'll take it under consideration. I certainly won't argue with him tonight."

&Julia had been listening at the door, coffee pot in hand. She didn't think her niece's advocacy of Willie was extreme, but, to be on the safe side, she would consult with Barnabas, and call her sister-in-law before talking to Cellie in the morning. She walked onto the porch and sat down next to Barnabas.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

&

&&&&CHAPTER TWO

&Cellie's alarm was set to go off at eight, but she intercepted it a half-hour early. Cellie had spent a restless night, tossing and turning, thinking about the problems that she couldn't have anticipated a scant twelve hours earlier, that had suddenly become of such vital importance. Worry about being sent home, worry about Julia and Barnabas worry about never seeing Willie again--- all had kept Cellie from getting more than three hours of sleep. The anxiety plagued her as

she had her morning coffee, as she took her shower, as she dressed for work. She dreaded the outcome of the impending talk with her aunt.

&Cellie came out of her room, dressed in a sweater and dark slacks (the Superette allowed the female help to wear pants, but no jeans or hip-huggers), and was attaching tiny gold studs to her ears as she walked to the living room. There, she found her aunt, on the phone; she heard Julia say, "Now, Janice," a couple of times, so it was clear that Cellie's mother was on the other end of the line. The girl stood quietly in the doorway until Julia, who appeared somewhat exasperated, said, "Alright, Janice, I'll check back in a week, with both you and Walter, " and hung up the receiver with a sigh. She looked up at her niece. "Sit down, Cellie," Julia said.

&Cellie sat on the easy chair across the room from her aunt. "Well, how did it go with my mother?"

&Julia sighed again. "Your mother has finally moved out of the house, into a small apartment near where your brother is living, near Boston College. Your father found a buyer for the house, and when he gives your mother her half, she will be looking for a larger apartment for both of you to live in. In the meantime, your father will be going on a lecture tour that he's been committed to for some time, and couldn't get out of."

&"You mean, his girlfriend wouldn't let him get out of," sniffed Cellie. "I guess as long as he can't see our family for a few weeks, she doesn't mind it even if it means she doesn't get to see him much herself. How's Mom taking it?"

&"That's another problem," Julia replied, dismayed that Cellie was obviouslynot in the habit of talking to, or writing to, her own mother. "If you had bothered to talk to her recently, you would have found her in a bad state. She says she's on tranquilizers, and can't calm down enough to look after you or search for a job right now."

&Cellie looked at the floor. "It's not that I don't care, I love both my parents--- I just find it easier to communicate with them through Ernest right now."

&Julia was sympathetic. "I'm trying to understand, Cellie. It's hard, not only on you and Ernest and your parents, but on everyone who knows and cares for them. How do you think I feel? Your father is MY big brother, and I always looked up to him, never thinking he could be capable of such irresponsibility. And I've always been fond of your mother. Well, the upshot of all this is, Cellie, that you will continue to live with me for a while yet. Some of the problems we have may

simply be the result of the newness of your situation. Maybe when you get used to life here, you'll make more new friends, and develop new interests. That brings me to the subject of Willie Loomis. I talked with Barnabas last night when I was taking him down to the Antique Shoppe. He thinks I'm forseeing problems that may never come to pass, and that I'm not giving you enough credit for having common sense."

&Cellie said, more defensively than before, "I told you, Mr. Loomis didn't come on to me. He helped me out. We made small talk, that's all. No big deal. He seemed okay, but I don't think he's any competition for say, Jack Knowlton, or some of the guys I went with in Boston."

&Julia answered, "That may very well be, but you have to be careful around Willie. I must tell you, Cellie, I have treated him for problems he's had in the past.I think I can tell you, without breaking confidentiality, that some of his troublesinvolve women. I have no idea if he's truly resolved these issues, because, as far as I know, he hasn't had any kind of a relationship in over a year, and then, for some years before that. The best thing you can do, then," she continued, "since it will be impossible to avoid him completely, is to be friendly to him in only a very general way, and not let yourself be alone with him. I'm not saying these things just because it's an adult's job to spoil your fun. But you've gone through some very bad times lately, and I want your stay here to be as normal and happy as possible under the circumstances."

&At this point, Cellie knew she didn't have to worry about going "home" to her unhappy mother or her seemingly unconcerned father. (She might have been willing to stay with her brother, but he and his bride both worked and went to school at crazy hours, and had only a tiny, two-room flat.) Reassured by this knowledge, Cellie was prepared to be gracious. She said to her Aunt, "I guess you're right, Aunt Jule, I'll be extra careful around--" (she almost choked on the name) "Willie. And, Aunt Jule?"

&"Yes, dear?"

&"I just wanted to apologize again for my nasty cracks about you and Barnabas and Professor Stokes last night. I mean, I'm so wrapped up in this triangle thing my parents are going through, that I'm worried that you might also be having, you know, love troubles."

&Julia was silent as she considered her niece's concerns. Cellie knew it wasn't because Julia was angry about her curiosity. "Why, she's just as confused about her feelings as I am about mine!" thought Cellie in amazement, when she "read" her aunt's emotions. When Julia finally answered, she chose her words carefully.

&"Cellie, I will tell you just how complicated friendships can be. It's true, I do have strong but different feelings for both Barnabas and Elliot. You may be sensitive enough to have guessed--- I've been in love with Barnabas ever since we met years ago. But, after having gone through many experiences with him, I have come to accept that he will never feel anything for me but devoted friendship. And as for Elliot, I know he has a great affection for me--- so great, in fact, that he's proposed to me at least half-a-dozen times over the last year. But I kept putting him off, always hoping that Barnabas would--- I had hopes last night---" Julia stopped, fighting to control her voice---"Well, now I'm on the verge of accepting Elliot's latest proposal. I'm getting older, and having you here, even with your problems, makes me realize what I've been missing by not having had any sort of family life. Elliot and I will be happy enough, and it would be good for you and Hallie."

&Cellie wondered just what being "happy enough" entailed. It didn't sound very satisfying. It would be nice, of course, to have Hallie in her family. Cellie had only known Hallie for a few weeks, yet she was beginning to feel almost sisterly towards her. Still, both girls would soon be finishing high school, and their future plans might take them in very different directions. Then what would become of Julia and Elliot, and their "happy enough" arrangement? And what about Barnabas? Cellie had reason to believe that he was finally coming around to a new appreciation of his longtime companion. "What does Barnabas have to say about all this?" she asked.

&Julia replied, "He's told me, often enough, not to put my life on hold---that he stands by, and supports, any decision I make. Of course, I won't see him as often, or alone. But he is also a friend of Elliot's, and he is fond of Hallie. He is also becoming fond of you. He will not be cut off from us, by any means."

&Cellie asked, "When would the wedding take place? Will it be a big celebration?"

&Julia smiled sadly. "I would have liked a fancy ceremony with all the trimmings. I've certainly waited long enough for it. But, with all our family troubles right now, it would be best to keep things simple. A month or so should be more than enough time to prepare."

&Cellie thought, "Maybe there's still time. . . If only I can think of something. . . and also figure out how not to leave Hallie's Uncle in the lurch." She looked at her watch and stood up. It was nine-thirty, and the Superette was a twenty-minute ride down winding beach roads. Cellie asked for the keys to the Volkswagen. Julia, who seldom worked on Saturdays, and who didn't even need to go grocery shopping with her niece working right there in the store, handed them over readily. Cellie left the house quickly, jumped in the car, and was soon

speeding towards Collinsport.

&Saturday was the busiest day of the week at the Superette; Cellie and her co-workers called it "Zoo Day." (Cellie had once heard that Collinsport had the lowest percentage of registered voters in Maine. She thought that if the registrar set up a booth by the checkout on Saturdays, and offered double coupons for signing up, there would soon be 100% voter turnout in Collinsport; there was that volume of customers.) "Geez, " Cellie thought, "Some of these people are so pale, it must be the only day of the week they get out of the house. Either that, or they really are some of the 'living dead' the kids at school here joke about." She didn't see Willie today; for the first time ever, she actually missed him. Cellie saw Hallie at her register nearby, but they didn't get a chance to talk until lunchbreak. Cellie asked her friend if she wanted to join her at the Antique Shoppe, but Hallie and her uncle were going out of town after work, and wouldn't be back until Sunday night.

&Finally, it was four-thirty. Cellie punched her time card gratefully. Part-time jobs at the Superette were highly coveted by Collinsport youth, but anyone who worked there always came to feel that he or she had put in a very full day. Cellie got into the checkout line with a can of soda and a bag of corn chips. She hurried out to the Beetle, and ate quickly. Then she drove downtown. The Antique Shoppe was located on a quiet sidestreet, one of the oldest buildings in the oldest part of town. Cellie looked at it before she got out of her car.

&The storefront jutted out from the main building, which looked as if it had been constantly rebuilt over the years. Barnabas had told her that the whole place was at least two hundred years old, and had always served as a business establishment of some kind, beginning with a blacksmithing operation that had lasted over a century. The great fireplaces it must have once had were taken out when, at some point, the place was converted into a general store The building had been vacant for about twenty years, until the first of a series of souvenir and antique stores began to occupy it.

&&

&There had been a number of proprietors over the years, until the elderly owners of the last business closed shop. This was due as much to the competition provided by the young and energetic Philip and Megan Todd in their new store a block away, as by any infirmities the older couple may have suffered. Upon the untimely, puzzling and tragic passing of both Todds, Barnabas and Carolyn, both seeking a profitable outlet for their greatest interests, saw the possibilities of such a venture. As Philip and Megan's own store had been destroyed in a fire, the Collins cousins bought the older building that once housed the Todds' former rivals. Willie, who was at loose ends after his broken engagement, joined reluctantly, convinced by Carolyn, who was herself still grieving over the murder of her husband. He was allowed to take over the living quarters in the back of the store.

&To everyone's surprise, he was a big help---he seemed to have a knack for locating potential merchandise, and he did most of the physical labor. (Barnabas did not, however, let him handle anything on the business end, and he didn't encourage Willie to mingle with the customers unless they needed him to move something. Barnabas utilized his services while keeping him in the background, sometimes over Carolyn's protests.)

&Cellie got out of the Beetle, which she had parked directly in front of the entrance, and entered the Shoppe ("Geez," she thought, they've got to come up with a snappier name than Antique Shoppe.")

The door had one of those jingling bells that alerted anyone working in a back room, but once the bell stopped ringing, Cellie could not believe how quiet the place was. A couple of well-dressed people were examining an elaborately carved chiffarobe in a corner, but they spoke in

hushed voices, as though they were in church. A junior-sized grandfather-type clock ticked away, each small sound magnified in the surrounding silence.

&When Cellie looked around, she was reminded of one of those cluttered illustrations in an old edition of any Dickens novel.

There was a kind of loose organization: large furniture to one side, accessory furnishings close to the windows; various lamps and sculptures in the middle of the showroom floor. Cellie glimpsed a rack of old clothes (Carolyn Hawkes's specialty) near the stairway to the living quarters, and a large glass case full of jewelry. Someone was bending down behind the jewelry case. Cellie stepped closer, and saw Carolyn, whom she had met a couple of times at her aunt's cottage, arranging some pocket watches on a lower glass shelf. Cellie asked, quite seriously, "Excuse me, Miss, but have you seen Little Nell around here lately?"

&Carolyn stood up and faced Cellie, smiling mischievously. "If it's Mr. Quilp who wants to know, tell him to take a long walk off a short pier." She took up adust rag and began to wipe the counter down. "Just another day in the Old Curiosity Shop. How's it going with you, Cellie?"

&"Okay I guess. You know, this is a pretty relaxing place to hang out after Zoo Day at the Superette."

&"Too relaxing, sometimes. It's almost like working in The Store Time Forgot. I keep telling Barnabas, if it doesn't get livelier in here, I'm going to bring in my stereo and play some Rolling Stones albums."

&"No, I like this. I wouldn't change a thing, except, maybe, the name. Too bad 'The Old Curiosity Shop' is already taken. Antique stores shouldn't be noisy and glitzy," Cellie said, surveying the scene.

&"Well, I'm sure real life in the past was noisy, if not glitzy," Carolyn replied. "I shouldn't complain, though, the ambience around here does seem to draw in the customers. I'd better go tend to those two," she said, indicating the well-dressed couple at the chiffarobe, who were looking back at her as though they'd made up their minds. "Barnabas is in the office, near the stairs." She pointed at the door.

&The younger girl went to the door and knocked. She said, "It's me, Cellie."

&Barnabas let her in, then walked over to a big, old wooden desk, and closed a ledger he'd been reading. He regarded her with that same benign expression he wore when he'd talked to her last night. Cellie said, smiling, "Long time, no see. Here I am, pay envelope in hand, ready for the grand tour."

&Barnabas, apparently charmed by her attempts at humor, replied,

"Nothing is more welcome here than a cash customer. No worries about bad checks and overcharged credit cards. I remember my father once told me I had no head for business, but in the past few years I've managed to learn that much."

&Cellie asked "So, your father was a big business type?"

&Barnabas answered, "You might say so--- he was the consummate business man, almost to the exclusion of all else. And I was the scholarly son who had little interest in adding to the family fortune, at least in that fashion."

&Cellie had a "rainbow spell" at that moment---she felt the repressed sorrow, the dark greens of shame--- then, of course, it vanished quickly, as it always didwith Barnabas. She said, sympathetically, "I'm sorry about that, it must have been pretty tough for you. But you seem to have made up for it."

&"Yes, you could say I've overcome my past. We've had a few setbacks, but working in a field I know and love so well makes it all worthwhile. Come, let me show you around."

&As they left the office, Cellie asked, in low voice, "Barnabas, is Willie around today? You two didn't have a big fight after all, did you?"

&Barnabas, while he was a little concerned about the Willie--and--Cellie situation, thought it would blow over if he and Julia didn't display too much anxiety. "Willie is working downstairs right now, but he will come up shortly. I had a talk with him last night, as restrained as you suggested. He assured me that he had no ulterior motives in your regard. If you want to talk to him once in a while, that's all right. Apparently, he felt you gave him some good advice."

&"I told him he might feel better about himself if he could get an equivalency diploma. If he's considering it, I'm glad," Cellie said, in some relief. She had worried about how Barnabas would deal with Willie.

&"Well, that's settled. I have some bud vases behind the display case that I had sent back here while I was still in England. Some of them are almost two hundred years old, but so many were produced during that period that I've priced them quite inexpensively. Of course, as time goes on, they may come to be worth a good deal more. Attrition is to the antique business, what 'location' is to to real estate. Since it's your first visit and you are Julia's niece, I am prepared to take a

'deep discount', as they say on the radio, to your benefit. Interested?" Barnabas was really enjoying himself, Cellie thought, delightedly. She wondered if he'd ever displayed his sense of humor around her aunt.

&Poor Aunt Jule, she could use a good laugh, the girl thought. She said toBarnabas, "Of course I'm interested. It beats the daylights out of a trip to Filene's Basement!" At that moment, as if on cue, Willie stepped out of the Shoppe's basement, and stood quietly, watching Cellie's and Barnabas' merriment. He felt a little confused and resentful. His talk with Barnabas had not gone as easily as his

employer had related to Cellie.

&"Don't spend too much time with the girl. If I hear this goes further thankitchen chats, it won't go well with you, Willie. She's underage, and she is Julia's niece. She's having a difficult time, and neither of you needs any more trouble."

&Willie had protested, in his rather weak way, that it wasn't like that at all. "She thought she could help me with my problems, like Carolyn. When you tell someone smart like that about your troubles, they always say 'Go back to school' like that fixes everything.

I guess that's all she knows about. But she just meant to be nice." Willie accepted Barnabas' restrictions, but he had one surprise in store for Cellie, and for this, he'd enlisted Carolyn's help, so that Barnabas would have no business getting sore about it.

&Cellie sensed Willie's presence before she heard it. Again, she was amazedhow easy it was to "read" his emotions. She looked up at him, giving him what she hoped was her most "generally friendly" smile. Willie simply nodded at her with a half-smile. Barnabas observed this wordless exchange, and didn't see anythingto be concerned about. Cellie turned her attention back to him, and Willie passed into the kitchen area.

&After a while, Cellie, to whom Barnabas had given a two-hundred-year-old English bud vase (she bought another "for a song") and with some borrowed journals under her arm, said goodnight to him. He went back into his office and closed the door. Just as Cellie turned to exit, Carolyn came in from the kitchen, and asked if she'd like some coffee before she left. Cellie was thirsty (as well as

a little hungry), so she walked into the large kitchen with Carolyn. Willie was standing by the table with a big grin on his face. Before him, on the table, stood four small, white cartons with thin wire handles. As Cellie approached the table, she caught the mingled aromas of spiced meat, vegetables, and soy sauce.

&She gave a happy yelp. "Chinese food! Oh, Will, you remembered! Thisis the greatest! How--when did you get it?"

&Willie said, happily, "I called Carolyn when I got back from your Aunt's last night. I knew she was going to Ellsworth for Barnabas, so I asked her to stop at that place I told you about, and pick up whatever she thought you would like, since we were expecting you tonight."

&Cellie turned to Carolyn. "Thank you so much for taking the time!"

&Carolyn smiled at both of them. "It was no trouble at all, really. By the time I'd finished my errands in Ellsworth, I was hungry, anyway, so I had lunch at the Chinese place before I ordered your stuff. I'm not too familiar with the cuisine, so it helped me decide what to order for you. I should really thank you, for giving me an excuse to try it. Now I just can't wait to go there again."

&Cellie said, "Maybe you could start a combination Chinese take-out and antique store. You know, eat a little, buy an antique, and in an hour, you're ready to eat and buy again. This place would make a fortune." She still stood looking at the cartons. She reached out to pick them up. "Well, thanks again, I guess I'll get going. I had a good time."

&Willie said, "You can stay a while and eat it here, if you want. I had it in the refridgerator, but I can heat it up quick. Plus, you were expecting some coffee. . . or would you rather have tea? That goes with Chinese food."

&"Oh, if you already have coffee made, that'll be fine. But really, Will, it's too much trouble, I'll just take the food home."

She peeked inside the cartons. "Wow, Carolyn, you must be psychic. Szechuan beef with snowpeas, and eggroll, are my absolute favorites."

&Carolyn had been quietly watching both of her friends. "So, it's 'Will', is it?" she thought. Cellie and Willie already seemed to have a special way of talking to each other, almost cozy. Carolyn was dismayed, feeling like she'd been asked to help promote some forbidden activity. She had become fond of Cellie. And as for Willie, well---

& Carolyn had mixed feelings about him. He had been quite unpleasant, nasty, and sleazy, when they first met. Willie had then been a "protege" of Jason McGuire, who had come to Collinwood to blackmail Carolyn's mother, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard. When his own early schemes collapsed and he had come under Barnabas's influence, Willie had a series of ups and downs, nice one minute, vile as he had always been, the next. After he'd survived being shot by the police for a crime (kidnapping) even his "victim" wasn't completely convinced that he'd committed, and enduring confinements at both the state mental hospital and then, at WindCliff sanitarium, he became more docile.

&The next couple of years brought on more positive changes; Willie had become likeable, if somewhat weak. He worked hard to live down his past, and Carolyn felt if he could find another woman who could endure his ways and didn't fear his history, he might eventually be considered fairly normal. Carolyn had, briefly, felt an odd attraction for him in the nightmarishly empty months following her husband's death.

It was during this period that she'd convinced him to join in the antique shop venture. Nothing happened between them after all, partly because Willie was given to moping, either about his broken engagement, or about the departure of David's governess, Maggie Evans, whom he'd once fancied (and who'd been the victim of the kidnapping for which Willie was suspected, though the two had, somehow, become friendly!) Carolyn was, ultimately, grateful when her ardor had cooled without incident.

&And now, Carolyn observed the interaction of Cellie and Willie, not with jealousy, but concern. Like Barnabas and Julia, she believed something could be starting; unlike them, she wasn't sure she condemned it. If only Cellie was a few years older. . .If only Willie had a cleaner slate. . . If only she didn't have to worry.

&Willie had convinced Cellie to eat the eggrolls at least, but Cellie insisted on eating them cold, and saving the rest for later. He sat across from her, and motioned for Carolyn to sit down, but Carolyn, who heard the doorbells, decided it was safe enough to leave them while she tended to the customer.

&"I have to leave you two kids alone now, " she said brightly. "Behave while I'm gone." When she'd left the kitchen, Willie took the opportunity to move his chair closer to Cellie's. She didn't draw back.

& In between bites, she commented, in a conspiritorial whisper, "They all act as if you're the Boston Strangler, about to add me to your list of hapless victims." She took a sip of coffee. Willie'd made it just as she liked it, as strong and bitter as espresso. She said, "I could drink this coffee all day. When Aunt Jule makes hers, it looks and tastes like dishwater, and she hates it when I make it my way."

&Willie was pleased by her compliment and her gratitude for the food. He refused when she offered him some. "I can't eat that stuff anymore," he said. "I had enough crazy food when I was going around the world. I'd rather have those potatoes you made yesterday. It kind of reminded me of something my mother used to make, only yours was spicier."

&Cellie wanted to hear more about his family, but was wary of his reactionto any questions. Instead, she said, "Well, I'd have to make a whole new batch.You darn near cleaned us out last night."

&"I wish you could come over here and make some for us. I mean,

I really can cook if I want to, I used to do it for Barnabas and some short-order places I worked in, but it's not much fun, cooking fancy for oneself," Willie said plaintively. He leaned closer to Cellie, and looked directly into her large, grey eyes.

&She looked right back into his smaller, bright blue ones. They gazed at each other for a minute or so. As he had the night before, Willie reached out and drew her face a little closer. He kissed her slightly parted lips. She kissed him back, then pulled away.

&"Why did you stop, Cecily?" Willie asked gently.

&"I--I have to, Will. You probably heard the same thing from Barnabas as I heard from my aunt. 'Cross the line, and it's all over!' I go back to Boston, and you're out the door! I want to stay here. I don't want anything to happen to you, either. I sort of want a normal life right now, and I know I'm still too young for---a lot of things," Cellie said. "Do you understand, Will? Maybe this isn't exactly

the right time for us---if there is an 'us.' I mean, I only came here a few weeks ago, I saw you in the checkout line, with no personal contact, and I only really met you last night, and now it seems like everything's changed in twenty-four hours."

&"Yeah, I do understand, Cecily," Willie said dispiritedly. "It's all going alittle too fast for me, too. One time, it wouldn't have been fast enough, but now---I'm getting older, I guess. But I don't agree that you're too young for anything. You still have some kid ways about you, but I'll bet you got more sense about things than a lot of older people. I'll tell you what," he said, a little brighter now. "It's gonna be tough for me, but I'll back off for now. You just go on with your senior-high school stuff, go around with some boys, whatever. Find out what you really want. You'll still be coming by here, we can talk the way we've been doing. I'll be more careful. I got no intention of being pun---driven out."

&"Thanks an awful lot, Will, for everything, I mean. Now that I know you, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't at least have you as a friend." Cellie looked at her watch. "Geez, it's almost seven already! I've got to get home. I have some homework I'd like to start tonight. You know," she observed, "Carolyn's been with that customer quite a while."

&"I think she was giving us a little time together. Carolyn's been through a lot herself. Her family always gave her a hard time about the guys she went with, then she married that Jeb Hawkes against their wishes. Then, boom! He was killed right before her eyes. It's taken her forever to get over it." Willie sounded sympathetic.

&"That has to be the most awful thing--- being powerless to save someone you love," Cellie shuddered. "There must be something that can be done to help her feel better." ("And I'm just the one to attempt it," she thought.)

&"Well, unless you can conjure up a really super-great guy, I'd say you have your work cut out for you," Willie answered her, smiling. ("How did he know what I was thinking?" Cellie wondered.)

&" 'Well, tomorrow is another day,' " she quoted in her best Scarlet O'Hara accent. "I have to go now, Will." She picked up the remaining cartons. "Thanks again for the Chinese food. I'll have to bring you some potato casserole next time I come by." She patted his shoulder as she passed his chair. He placed his hand over hers, and she stood gazing down at him for a minute. She leaned over, thinking he wanted to kiss her again, but he released her hand.

&"Good night, Cecily, take care of yourself out there."

&"Good night, Will. I'll see you in the checkout line at the store. " Cellie left the kitchen. She went out and said goodnight to Carolyn, who was counting some of the day's receipts. She wondered where Barnabas had gone.

&"Oh, he left a while ago, after that last customer came in. Don't worry, I told him you were having a quick cup of coffee before you left. He's none the wiser."

&"Nothing happened anyway. Thanks for everything, Carolyn." Cellie happened to glance toward the glass display case. She noticed that it was totally empty. She asked, "How come the jewelry counter is cleaned out? You couldn't have sold all that stuff in an hour!"

&Carolyn studied the receipts in her hand. "Oh, Barnabas does that---he loads 'em all in a security box and locks them in a safe at his house. I guess he's afraid of a break-in---they're the easiest things to steal and fence, obviously. We've got an alarm that rings in the police station, but by the time they got here, it would be too late."

&"But, isn't Will here after--" Cellie stopped. She suddenly realized why Barnabas took the jewelry with him.

&Carolyn said, evenly, "Oh, he goes out after work sometimes, I suppose. He can't be here all the time."

&"Well, it must be a hassle, rearranging those things, day after day."

&"It adds some variety to the job, putting them in a new order everymorning," replied Carolyn with a smile.

&"Oh, well, I'd better get going," said Cellie. "I'll be around next week, when I've finished these books Barnabas lent me."

&"I'll be seeing you, then. 'Night, Cellie."

&" 'Night, Carolyn." Cellie exited the shoppe, jumped in her car, and zoomed home. She ran past her aunt, who was sitting in the living room. Julia merely murmurred a brief reply to Cellie's greeting, then, without further comment, resumed her reading. Cellie, grateful not to be interrogated, went into the kitchen, heated the Chinese food, and took it into her room. She was dismayed to break open the fortune cookie and find it empty.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

&&&CHAPTER THREE

&

&By the middle of the week, back in her familiar routine, Cellie was feeling much closer to normal. The tumultuous sensations she'd experienced with Willie now seemed to be far in the past. And the mistrust she'd sensed in her aunt evaporated now that Cellie was safely "in step" with her peer group. And yet, now,when she joined her classmates' eager discussions about football, or the homework

load, or how out-of-touch the teachers were, Cellie somehow felt disconnected, asif these concerns were too trivial in the scheme of things. Something had changed forever, and she scrambled madly to get her old point-of-view back.

&One easy way (or so she thought) would be to socialize and accept as many dates as her schedule would allow. By Tuesday afternoon, she had a Friday nightget-together planned with Hallie and her friend David Collins at his home, Collinwood. Although David was younger than the girls, Cellie had discovered she had an affinity for his eclectic interests and odd sense of humor, most unusual in a boy of sixteen. Plus, he'd just gotten his driver's license, and his father, Roger,

had given him a car for his birthday (which car, a new but ordinary-looking Buick, was more to Roger's taste than his son's.) David hoped to have an opportunity to terrify the girls with his driving "skills." (Cellie remarked to Hallie, "I think he just plain wants to 'drive' us crazy." Hallie, who was always a bit on the nervous side, tended to agree.)

&As for Saturday night, Cellie had acccepted yet another date with Jack Knowlton. She liked him more than anyone she'd gone with in Boston, and he had a way of intimidating any other Collinsport boys who would have asked her out. Jack was tall and rather stronger than most of the other boys, in part due to the fact that he spent most of his time away from school on the lobster boat with his father.

&But what really set him apart was his truculent attitude, which may have been a result of his parents' bitter divorce. Jack had gone to live with his father Al, soon after Al left Jack's mother, Melinda, who spent a lot of time in bars, and was said to live an indiscreet life not to be discussed in polite company. Al had remarried, and Jack did get along with his stepmother, Nancy, whom Cellie had met, and liked.

&Cellie identified with Jack's troubles, although in his case the guilty party was his mother. At any rate, Jack, who appreciated her sympathy, curbed his arrogance for the most part when he was around Cellie, and hadn't yet made a "move" on her. Cellie wondered what Jack would do if he ever found out that she had kissed Willie Loomis. Jack seemed to have something against him, calling him, in conversation, "Crazy Willie." Naturally, Cellie, who felt she was getting to know Willie, tried to change the subject when it came up, but it was easier to keep quiet than to get Jack to drop it.

&In spite of all this, Cellie would see Jack, simply because he was the only one who kept asking her. (She didn't know about his strong-arm tactics against the other boys.) She knew he had some "red" emotions for her, which had kept the pesky "orange" ones at bay, and she didn't want to discourage someone who was making such an effort to make something better of his life. He was, like his new girlfriend, one of the top students in their class.

&Julia wished Cellie would see other boys, but she was won over by Jack'sconstant announcement of his future plans. "I'll be the first Knowlton man to finish high school, and the first to get to college, and the first in eight generations not to fish or catch lobster all his life," he would say, with what Cellie sensed was an almost pathetic pride.

&"Well, what will you be, them?" Julia would ask, herself entranced by hisdetermination. (It sometimes seemed to Cellie that her psychiatrist aunt put her professional insights on hold when she wasn't at work.)

&"I'd like to be a lawyer. I'll also be the first Knowlton man in all that time to live somewhere else than in Collinsport. Maybe I could practice in Bangor, or Portland, or maybe, " he would say, looking at Cellie, "In Boston, someday."

&Well, a dazzling life with this Knowlton Man was far in the future ("the farther the better." Cellie thought.) There was still the week to be lived through.

&Friday arrived, much colder than the Friday before, but the skies were bright and clear. Cellie was on her way out of the high school building at three o'clock, when she suddenly stopped in front of the Guidance Office. She remembered her suggestion that Willie should study for an equivalency diploma, and thought she'd ask Mrs. Texeira, the Guidance Counselor, some general questions about how it was done. Since she was supposed to stop in the Antique Shoppe to return the old books to Barnabas the next day after work, arriving equipped with knowledge and some preliminary paperwork would give her an acceptable excuse to talk with Willie.

&Cellie rapped lightly on the opaque glass door. She heard Mrs. Texeira walk to the door. If someone was already with her, her practice was to open the door a discreet five inches and ask the visitor to come back later. Today, there was no-one and she opened the door wide. She smiled at the girl as though Cellie was the one person Mrs. Texeira wanted to see most. But then, that was just her way with everyone, the trait that got her voted "Most Popular Faculty Member" in the yearbook five years in a row, ever since she'd arrived here, in fact.

&"Cecily Hoffman," she began. She had the slightest Portuguese accent. "How nice of you to visit. Do come in, I'm not expecting anyone else, as it's the day's end."

&"I'm not keeping you, I hope, " Cellie said. "I'd just like to ask a few questions."

&Mrs. Texeira answered kindly, "Not at all, Cecily. I'm in no hurry to get home. My son, Jorge, won't be back from the Superette till six." Mrs. Texeira, a widow, resided with her son, a manager at the store where Cellie worked, and her daughter, a nurse at the local hospital. "And my Fatima is working the late shift."

&Cellie was reading her emotions while she talked. Mrs. Texeira wasn't as cheerful as she appeared to be. While she conversed with Cellie, the older woman's eyes strayed to a silver-framed family portrait on her desk. It displayed a younger, thinner, darker-haired Mrs. Texeira (Her first name was also Fatima), her two good-looking children when they were teenagers, and a short, stocky, but kind-looking man whom Cellie assumed was the late Mr. Texeira, who had died six years earlier, back at the family's former home in New Bedford. (When his widow spoke about him, she always said, "My Joao, such a wonderful man.") "Poor Mrs. Texeira, if only there were some nice older Portuguese guys around, " Cellie thought.

&She came out of her reverie, and got to the point. "I have a friend who dropped out of school about--oh--at least fifteen years ago, I guess. He's finally settling down in his life, and he was thinking about working toward an equivalency diploma. How would he go about it?"

&"We do run some G.E.D. classes here in Collinsport, although they're not in great demand here," said Mrs. Texeira ruefully. "It must be something in the salt air." She smiled again. "It would depend on the grade at which your friend dropped out, how his marks were up to that time, how much new material has been added to the required curriculum, that sort of thing."

&"Would a--a jail record figure into that determination?" Cellie looked directly into the Counselor's eyes.

&

&"Just who is this friend of yours, Cecily?" asked Mrs. Texeira, with deep concern in her voice.

&Cellie knew she had to answer. "Willie Loomis, ma'am, he works with my Aunt Julia's friend Barnabas Collins at the Antique Shoppe. They came to dinner at my aunt's house last week, and the conversation turned to school stuff. He mentioned that he'd dropped out of school, and he might like to go back. I thought I'd do him a little favor and find out what was involved."

&"Did he ask you to, dear?" The counselor inquired gently.

&Cellie thought, "Oh geez, not Mrs. Texeira too! Poor Will." She replied, "Not exactly, but whenever he talks about it, he looks like he wants to but he's, you know, too embarrassed, what with his reputation and all." She hoped the explanation would pass muster with the good-hearted Guidance Counselor.

&"Well," Mrs. Texeira began, "I've heard some things about him since I've lived in Collinsport, but, from what's been going around lately, apparently his situation is much improved. I would have to meet him myself, before I passed judgment. Listen, Cecily, I know young people want to save the world, but they must be careful about the parts they choose to save. That having been said, I can see no harm in giving you some papers to take to Mr. Loomis, brochures and applications, and then, if he's still interested, tell him to call me, and we may

be able to set him up in some classes next semester, if not here, then in Ellsworth. Will that be all, today?"

&Cellie contained her enthusiasm well. "Yes, thank you so much, Mrs. Texeira."

&The counselor went to her desk, opened some drawers, and drew out an assortment of papers, which she fastened with a huge paper clip and handed to Cellie. "This should be enough for a start. Now, scoot." She was smiling again. "I have to work on my schedules for the November conferences."

&Cellie stuck the papers in her ring binder, and went outside.

&She caught a ride home with Hallie, who was picked up by her Uncle Elliot. Hallie said, "Uncle Elliot will take us up to Collinwood tonight, he says he needs to see Mrs. Stoddard about something. It's just as well, I didn't like the idea of David driving along those winding roads to bring us, then take us home."

&"That David shouldn't have been allowed to get his license until he was at least twenty-five," opined the Professor, with a little humor in his gruff-sounding voice. "I shudder for the other drivers and the pedestrians of this fair city."

&"I think we'll all survive, Professor," answered Cellie brightly. "It beats the daylights out driving a broomstick, which, I'm given to understand, was the preferred mode of transportation for some of his ancestors."

&Hallie shuddered, "What a thing to say, Cellie. If you'd ever lived in that house you wouldn't joke about things like that. I was a wreck while I lived there, before Uncle Elliot rented the cottage."

&"Poor Hallie," Cellie thought with wry sympathy. "She's still under repair." She sometimes wondered how Hallie was coping with life in the real world. Hallie (Hannah Lynne on her birth certificate; her sole act of boldness was insisting that everyone call her by the name she'd invented for herself at age four) had been the cherished only child of Elliot's brother, born to her parents when they were already middle-aged. She had been sheltered beyond anything even Cellie could imagine (and Cellie, the baby of her family, had been sheltered and pampered indeed---until high school, anyway.) Hallie had only gone to private schools, when she wasn't being tutored at home. Then her parents had died in a horrible plane crash just over two years ago. They had left Hallie in the care of her mother's sister while they went on the fatal trip (for their silver anniversary) and she remained with her aunt's family until her uncle found out his company was transferring him to California.

&She was then sent to live with Elliot, who'd remained in the general area the Stokes family had come from. (This pleased Hallie, who had become dreadfully afraid of airplanes.) When Elliot had to commute thirty miles to and from the University, his friend Elizabeth Stoddard invited him to bring Hallie to live at herhome, Collinwood. Elliot brought Hallie back to live with him when he went on sabbatical, and he thought it would benefit the shy girl to attend the local high school with David Collins (who'd been ejected from three private schools within seven months of Maggie's leaving, as much from homesickness as from mischief-making), and then, to get a part-time job with her new girlfriend, Cellie Hoffman.

&Hallie was a pleasant-looking girl, with straw-blonde hair, but always, with the most worried expression on her face, and the shakiest hands. Cellie wondered where Hallie'd found the courage to work in the Superette, and to keep at it in spite of the mishaps her anxieties brought on. She dropped things (but many items were now packaged in plastic, so she seldom broke anything) and she messed up her register a couple of times. It must have been her devotion to Cellie, who always seemed so brave, (and who kept talking the manager out of firing her) that kept her going.

&"Oh, Hallie," Cellie said cheerfully, "Take it easy. You know, David jokes about his family that way all the time. It's probably the only way he can stand it."

&Hallie sniffed, "Well, I hope he doesn't pull any pranks on us tonight."

&Her uncle said, "Don't worry, Hallie. Cellie will defend you." He pulled into the Hoffmans' driveway. "We'll pick you up, Cellie, around seven."

&Cellie replied, pertly, "That'll give me time to gird myself in shining armor to do battle for the fair Hallie."

&Hallie turned red, but managed to answer, smiling, "Get cracking, Joan of Arc. See you later." Elliot backed out of the driveway, and drove down the street.

& Julia wouldn't be home from work until after Cellie had left for Collinwood. Cellie ran into her room, and tucked the G.E.D. papers into the old books she was going to return to Barnabas the next day. She knew that Hallie would be dressing up for their visit later. This really annoyed Cellie, who'd looked forward to exploring David's house in her sturdy jeans. Fortunately, she'd had the opportunity go to

Collinsport's only department store, and bought two skirts, another blouse, and dark stockings, so she could bury the turquoise dress deep in her closet.

&She ate some leftovers, then flung on the new violet blouse and black skirt, and a wide yellow belt she already owned, and was more than ready to go when the Stokeses came back at quarter-to-seven. She threw on her heavy suede jacket (the air outside had a frosty feel) and ran out. Hallie, who wore a lacy-collared sky-blue dress under her best grey wool coat, eyed her friend's ensemble with amused scorn. She remarked, "That outfit does some interesting things with color, Cellie."

&Cellie stood beside the car with her hands on her hips. "It's what the well-dressed Joan of Arcs are wearing these days, forsooth. Check out my belt of bravery."

&Hallie said, with a laugh, "That shade of yellow's enough to frighten the most stalwart spook, I'm sure. Get in the car, already."

&Elliot chuckled at the exchange. Cellie had a way of bringing Hallie out of her shell. He was glad she would be around after he and Julia were married--- Julia had finally said "Yes" during a brief visit earlier in the week, and asked him not to tell Hallie or Cellie right away. He'd gone one better; he told her not to make an announcement until he had a chance to buy her a proper engagement ring. Julia protested that it wasn't necessary, but she was secretly pleased to be able to enjoy this bit of tradition. Elliot planned to take her to the jeweler's the next week. He didn't say much on the long ride, until they were near Collinwood.

&Cellie gaped at the sight outside the car window. She had seen large buildings around Boston, of course, and her mother had taken Cellie and Ernest to Newport a couple of times, to tour the immense "cottages." But nothing prepared Cellie for the sight of the rambling mansion that seemed to cling to the hill like a huge reptile. "Geez, who designed that place---Frankenstein Lloyd Wright?" she asked.

&Elliot smiled as he answered, "Impressive, isn't it? That's what they call the "Great House" of Collinwood. It took over two years to build---it was finished in 1796, but there have been many renovations and additions over the years, so there are about forty rooms of various sizes. However, the family actually occupies only twelve at the present time."

&"Wow. And that place where Barnabas lives---the Old House? Where's that?" Cellie asked.

&"It's about a quarter of a mile from here, closer to Widow's Hill, overlooking the ocean. It's much smaller, of course, but interesting in its own way. It was built around 1700, but it, too, has undergone many changes. I'm sure Barnabas will invite you to visit someday soon." Elliot parked his car in a small lot near the large oaken front doors. He and the two girls went up the granite steps, and he rang the bell. One of the doors opened. An anxious-looking woman in her fifties, dressed in a housekeeper's uniform, stood in the doorway.

&She said, "Good evening, Professor Stokes. The family is in the drawing room. Hello, Hallie. And this must be Miss Hoffman." She stood back to admit the guests.

&Professor Stokes said, "We call her Cellie, Mrs. Johnson. Cellie, Mrs. Johnson is, shall we say, the major domo of Collinwood."

&"Oh, Professor, you do go on," Mrs. Johnson said with a worried smile. "That's 'housekeeper' in plain English to you, Cellie." She walked across the foyer to another set of doors. This time she opened both of them wide. Several people were ranged around a large fireplace in the center of a surprisingly simply-furnished living room. An elegant, dark-haired woman of about the same age as Mrs. Johnson, and who wore a simple black dress and pearls, came forward to greet them. Her smile reminded Cellie of Mrs. Texeira's.

&"Elliot! How nice to see you. And Hallie, dear." She embraced Hallie, who looked almost happy.

&Elliot said, "Elizabeth Stoddard, I'd like you to meet Cecily Hoffman, Julia's niece."

&Elizabeth took Cellie's hand. "So you're 'Cellie.' Carolyn has told me so much about you, I feel like I'd know you anywhere."

&David Collins, who had been standing nearby, remarked, "It's the hair, Aunt Elizabeth. Everybody knows Cellie by her hair." He slouched around in his expensive sportcoat paired with worn Levi's. Cellie stared at HIS hair, which he'd somehow been conned by a hairstylist into permitting the construction of a bizarre, pseudo-Afro froth. With sideburns!

&"Oh, David, don't be impertinent. And stand up straight." Elizabeth and Cellie then turned to a middle-aged man in a double-breasted suit who stood by an open liquor cabinet. "Cellie, this is my brother, Roger Collins, David's father." Cellie looked at Roger, David, and Elizabeth, (and, remembering Carolyn and Barnabas), and decided that, beyond a general "aristocratic" appearance, these members of the Collins family didn't resemble each other all that much; certainly, not as much as the almost solidly red-headed Hoffman clan did.

&"Miss Hoffman is speechless with awe, I observe," said Roger half-sarcastically. Cellie realized where David had learned his sense of humor. She was a little dismayed when Roger looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She blinked a lot to get that orange light out of her mind.

&David snickered, "She was taking in all the 'awe-ful' sights."

&Cellie found her voice. She didn't need her "rainbow spells" to tell her that David was going to push things so far that the whole evening would be spoiled. She said quickly, "I'm just very interested in my surroundings. I mean, I've toured in mansions, but nobody lived there anymore. Was this place ever, you know, in full operation, with all the rooms in use?"

&Elizabeth answered, "The last time almost all the rooms were used was at the turn of the century, and that's mainly because of the servant population at the time. Ironically enough, our family's success in the fish and lobster canning industry led to the decreased use of the rooms. Most of those who would have come to work on the estate, ended up getting jobs in the cannery, or joined the company fishing fleet that supplies it. Then of course, there was the Depression---we didn't

lose much ourselves, but it wasn't practical to keep the whole place open. Many rooms have been closed since I was a little girl. Roger here keeps suggesting that we have some of the West Wing taken down for safety's sake, but it would be a tremendous expense, and we may re-open it someday, if David or Carolyn decided to raise a family here."

&Cellie wondered if there was some way she'd get to see that closed West Wing. Knowing David, that was a distinct possibility, though Hallie, who had already seen it, and was still frightened by it, might object strenuously. Roger said, "Well, Elizabeth, I have a dinner engagement in town, I must get going. David," he addressed his son, "For God's sake behave yourself and don't upset these young ladies any more than you have to."

&"You have a swell evening yourself, Father," David replied sulkily. He never could figure out why he and his father got along well enough in private, but when others were around, Roger felt compelled to banter with him in that sarcastic manner. Sometimes it was funny, but when it came out of the blue, it was just embarrassing. Cellie, who stood by, read dark greens for shame, and mauve-grey, for frustration, in David. She couldn't get close enough to Roger to do the same,

but thought that, maybe, he just wanted to show everyone how he could joke with his son as though they were both grown men together.

&Elizabeth said quietly, "Don't spend the whole evening at the Blue

Whale, or at those new taverns on Main Street, Roger," as her brother walked close to her.

&Now Cellie caught a reflection of what David had felt, in his father. "These people," she thought, "just pass humiliation on down the line until it hits the ground and ricochets." She felt uncomfortable. Having her "gift" was a burden at times. Still, she liked Mrs. Stoddard, in spite of her bossiness. After all, she was Carolyn's mother; mother and daughter must have had some positive things

in common. And Cellie knew that Hallie adored her. <