Chapter Two --

 

“Jenkins Beach?” I was intrigued. Not only was it one of the most quaint little beach towns on the Atlantic coast, it was also on just about every travel show’s top ten list of best getaways.

“Let me drive you down to Bonnie Oaks and show you the house. I’m sure you’ll see that it will be a great fit for you.”

“Bonnie Oaks?”

“That’s the name of the cottage, Kim. I kept it when I bought the place.”

“You bought a cottage?” I was shocked. Mac had lived overseas for decades. As far as I knew, he had never owned anything. He was always in some distant land, doing whatever it was that he did. Mae was always rather vague about the details of her son’s employment.

“Say yes, Kimmy, at least to a trip down to see the place. Mae’s off for a visit with her sister. I’ll throw in lunch at the Crab Hut. Fresh lobster roll and homemade ice cream.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a look at the place. But I’m not making you any promises, MacDonald Tweedie.” I warned him.

“I’m not worried, Kimberly Sheffield. I have a pièce de résistance that will knock your socks off.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Mac smiled. I thought I saw a glint in his eye as he sat at the table, bathed in late afternoon sunlight. “I won’t have to strong arm you. In fact, you’ll be begging me to have you.”

“Excuse me?” For one fleeting moment, I thought Mac was flirting with me. “I’ll be begging you to have me?”

“How about if I pick you up?”

“Pick me up?” Suddenly the light changed to shadow as a Panera employee lowered the window blind and Mac once again looked like the boy I had grown up with all those years ago. Just plain, old MacDonald Tweedie, the boy with the funny name.

“It’s about a half-hour drive,” he announced. “Shall I swing by about quarter to twelve?”

As I looked into those deep brown eyes, I felt like I was standing at the edge of the ocean as the tide rushed in. I knew I should turn around and head for higher ground, but the pull of the current was too strong. What was happening to me? Maybe I had been out of circulation too long. Maybe it was those years of caring for my mother. I must be imagining Mac’s interest in me. Why hadn’t I ever noticed how attractive the curve of his smile was?

“That will be fine,” I managed to say.

“See you then,” he agreed, standing up. “I’ve got to run. I’ve got a business appointment.”

I sat there for another ten minutes, trying to collect my thoughts. I was usually such a practical, down-to-earth sort of person, not given to flights of fancy. Was that a spark that passed between us, or just the wishful thinking of a lonely spinster on the verge of falling into middle age? After all, I wasn’t getting any younger. My biological clock may have stopped ticking on having kids long ago, but that didn’t stop me from finding the scent of a man’s spicy after-shave intriguing.

Leaving Panera’s, I drove home the long way, lost in thought. I couldn’t stop thinking about the last hour. Something was different between Mac and me. Had it always been there and I just never saw it or was it new? I got busy at home, throwing myself into activity. I still had a lot of sorting and packing to do.

My mother was a collector, and she accumulated a number of items of mixed value over the years. It was my job to catalog it all for probate court, so an appraiser could determine its worth. I spent two hours on that before I took to my laptop and wrote a post on using rhubarb six different ways for my “Penny Pincher Gourmet” recipe blog. I submerged myself in writing and came out feeling more like my old self. I decided I must have just been having a weak moment when I fancied that electricity pass between Mac and me.

And yet it seemed to follow me like an enticing aroma, wafting through the air. I still couldn’t shake it the next morning. Why was I thinking so much about Mac? I hadn’t seen him since the last time he was around, just before Christmas. He had seemed so ordinary then, so familiar. What had changed now? Was it me? Was it loneliness?

I gave my emotions a good shove to the back of the line and focused on “The Penny Pincher Gourmet”. After all, I had bills to pay. I did a preliminary work-up of the new book, focusing on a theme. This was volume six, and I needed it to sell better than the last two. My editor had pointed out that part of the problem was that I hadn’t been able to publicize the books as well as I had with previous volumes. I was determined not to let that happen this time around. Our plan was to use the new book to reintroduce the series to a new, younger audience. What I needed was a great idea, something that would set me apart from other cookbook writers. This time, we were also going to offer an ebook version and an app, so folks could download their favorite recipes on the go. My best sellers were “Healthy Comfort” and “Grandma’s Best Home Cooking”. I needed a subject with that same kind of broad appeal to a wide audience of good cooks and adventurous amateurs.

So lost in the creative process was I that I lost track of the time. When the doorbell chimed, I jumped up and made a mad dash into the bedroom for my sandals and purse. I ran a brush through my shoulder-length hair and pulled it back before pinning it in a casual twist at the back of my head. Grabbing my makeup case, I fumbled with a touch of eye shadow and liner before quickly applying a dab of mascara to each eye. The doorbell rang again, this time a little more insistent.

“Sorry,” I apologized, as I flung open the door. “I’m running a little late today.”

“Don’t apologize on my account,” said that familiar voice. As he turned around, I gasped.

“Tom!” Utter disbelief sent my senses spinning. “Tom!”

“Glad to see me?” He gave me the benefit of his dazzling smile, lavishing it on me like a masseuse applying the latest cell-hydrating moisturizer, stroking my ego with his eyes. In his strong hands was a bouquet of irises, lilies, and roses. Handing it over to me, he gave me a gentle peck on the cheek.

“I heard about your mother. I’m sorry, Kim.”

“Thanks,” I sputtered, still in shock. My brain was malfunctioning. I still couldn’t understand why Tom was standing on my doorstep.

“Can I come in?”

“Right now?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a silver Buick pull up behind the red Ford Taurus with the Georgia plate that was parked in the driveway. It was Mac.

“Is this not a good time?” Tom put a proprietary hand on my arm and gave me a gentle squeeze, as if to claim territory. Mac was out of the car in a flash, bounding up the walk. Even as he moved, I seemed to see the wheels turning in Mac’s head. This was a man who meant business, and he wasn’t shy about making his plan come to fruition.

“Kim, sorry I’m late.” He took the bouquet out of my arms and strode confidently into the house. “I’ll get a vase and put these in water while you finish your conversation.”

“Boyfriend?” Tom asked. He sighed, pausing just long enough to seem disappointed. It suddenly dawned on me that Tom was playing me.

“Why are you here?” I asked, studying my older, but apparently not wiser, former lover. “You certainly didn’t come all this way to deliver flowers.”

“I’m here for a conference. ‘Advances in the Battlefield Operating Room: Emergency Medical Simulation’. It’s part of a joint training project between the Navy and Walden Medical Center.” As I stood looking at him, I saw more gray in his hair, especially at the temples. He was still very fit and it looked like he was a regular at the gym.

“I don’t understand. You’re not a doctor.”

“I’m the point man for the simulation technology. Vanguard Advanced created the program, so I’m supposed to introduce it.”

“Oh.” Mac was rummaging around in the kitchen. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t figure out what he was doing in there.

“So, what do you say -- dinner tonight?” Tom let his eyes linger on my lips, reaching out a hand to trace the curve of my cheek with his fingertips, imbuing all of the familiarity of a long-ago lover. Three years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to rekindle the fire. Two years ago, I would have played hard to get, testing the waters, to see if there was anything left to salvage of our relationship. A year ago, I would have turned him down, wanting to punish him for deserting me when I was at my most vulnerable. And now? That bold stroke of determined confidence irritated me as I stood there, those long fingers summoning up the specter of that intimacy we had once shared. It was as if Tom saw no distance between us, no time that altered the course of our relationship. He acted as if we would just take up where he left off, now that my mother’s health no longer interfered. It dawned on me that he was playing me, not out of love, but out of necessity. So, if I really wasn’t the love of Tom’s life, why did he want to see me? “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

That assumption, that I was his for the taking, got on my nerves. This was the man who left me to cope alone with my mother’s health crisis while he moved onto the next woman. Was it only that Adelaide was now deceased? Is that what made me attractive to Tom? Or was there something else pushing him in my direction?

“Sorry,” I shook my head. “That’s not possible.”

Mac walked in on the tail end of that exchange. I noticed the look he gave my former lover and my confusion grew. Why would Mac seem so aggrieved by a total stranger?

“Kim, we should probably get going,” Mac said somewhat impatiently. I watched Tom size up the other man in the room. He seemed to be looking for the competitive edge as he fluffed up his mental tail feathers.

“Tom Robacher.” His hand shot out like a heat-seeking missile, looking to connect to Mac’s. I watched in fascination as Mac maneuvered to avoid introducing himself. “And you are?”

“Not you. Excuse me.” Abruptly, uncharacteristically, Mac turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. It was a rude explosion of testosterone I hadn’t expected. Maybe I hadn’t imagined that spark between Mac and me.

“Serious relationship?” There was persistence in the tone of Tom’s question. He was looking for information. Why?

“Tom, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m on my way out.”

“Oh, come on. Let me see you again,” he urged me, touching my wrist. For a moment, I almost thought he was feeling for a pulse. I pulled myself away from him and led him to the door.

“It’s not convenient.” I waited for him to step out the door, but he lingered.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he warned me in a low whisper.

“You’ll have to, Tom.” I took two steps away from him, holding the door wide open.

“Are you that angry with me?” Tom gave a brief, disbelieving shrug of his powerful shoulders and stepped outside. He didn’t stop until he got to his car. By then, I had almost closed the door. That didn’t prevent him from making a declaration before the latch hit the strike plate.

“I’m willing to admit I made a mistake in letting you go. I’m willing to make it up to you.”

Behind the safety of the closed door, I took a deep breath. My head seemed to spin. How many times had I rehearsed my speech to Tom? How many times had I imagined him returning, tail between his legs, ready to acknowledge what a great mistake he had made in abandoning me? And yet here and now I had heard those words and felt nothing for him. No pang of sorrow for what might have been. It was as if the emotional fog had finally lifted, revealing the truth of what we shared. The shock hit me hard. Did that mean our relationship had been a fraud?

“Ready?” Mac came into the hall. I exhaled, shaking myself free of the past, at least for the moment. Had I really wasted the years dreaming about something that had never really been?

“Let’s go,” I managed to say more cheerfully than I felt. “I just need my bag.”

“Are you okay?” Mac’s eyes were on me, studying my face.

“Absolutely,” I smiled.

“I wasn’t sure. The guy seemed pretty persistent.” Mac slipped on his game face, his true feelings now concealed by a mask of neutrality. I wondered what was going on behind it.

“The past is the past. I just found out it doesn’t matter to me any more.”

“Interesting,” Mac decided, his dark brown eyes intently observing me.

“Not really,” I replied. “I’d much rather hear about Jenkins Beach. Tell me more about your cottage.”