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SIOBHAN
I skulked out of my house the next day, doing my best to avoid the possibility I might see or be seen by Jimmy “Are-we-done-yet?” Vais. No wonder his wife divorced him. What a miserable jerk.
Luckily, today was Saturday, it looked like Mr. Personality slept in on weekends, and I had a nice, full shooting schedule. Win-win-win. Once I pulled out of my driveway unnoticed, I was home free since I wouldn’t be back in the neighborhood again ‘til way past dark. Another win in my score column.
After I reached my studio, I turned on all the lights, opened the front door, and got ready for the day. My first appointment, according to my book, was with Lucie Murriere.
I’d originally met Lucie when she hired me to photograph her wedding. I earned her business forever though, when after the very private affair, I turned down a lucrative offer from East End Events Magazine to print my photos in their blockbuster summer issue. Apparently, Lucie’s husband, Colin, was kind of a big deal in the culinary world, having won some reality television cooking contest. I don’t watch food shows, since all those pretty, delicious-looking meals wreak havoc with my recovery. These days, I live in a “one meal at a time” pattern.
Anyway, the magazine editor offered me a small fortune for my photos, but I told them my contract with the Murrieres forbade me from releasing the pictures without their express written permission. A total lie, by the way, but I didn’t feel right about selling someone else’s special moments without their knowledge or consent.
Whenever I thought back to that conversation, I wondered if I did the right thing. I mean, morally, I know I did. But the money dangled at me would’ve been enough to cover my rent on this space for at least a year. Maybe, if I’d taken their offer, I could have staved off the looming financial disaster I faced now. Pride always warred with conscience and common sense when it came to my studio.
My gaze flicked to the business card pinned to the corkboard on the wall to the right of my desk. Bernard Devaux – Realty of the Hamptons. Reality slapped me across the face. I was kidding myself. Eventually, I’d have to make the call.
Not yet, my heart whispered. Hang on a bit longer. All you need is a few things to break your way.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
My head jerked up so fast I got that sensation of hot blood running from mid-skull to spine. Sucking in a sharp breath, I ran a hand down my nape and glared at the intruder. Justin Vais sat in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk, his work-booted feet propped on the second chair. He wore a fleece-lined flannel work shirt, dusty jeans and a big ol’ smile like I should be thrilled to see him.
“How’d you get in here?”
“Same way as anyone else would.” He jerked his head toward my storefront entrance, that dumb grin on his face. He reminded me of a chocolate Labrador, yummy looks but the personality of a toddler let loose on the playground after a jumbo espresso. “Door’s unlocked, and the sign says ‘open.’ Want me to go outside and come back in again so I don’t catch you by surprise?”
I glared at his boots, at the brown dirt collecting on the seat from the grooves in his soles, but didn’t bother to tell him to get his feet off my chair. I sensed it was what he wanted, and I was in no better mood today to do what anyone wanted than I had been last night. “I’d rather you go outside and stay outside.”
He clucked his tongue. “Is that any way to talk to your best customer?”
“You’re not even in the top ten,” I retorted and slapped my palm on top of a pile of sample wedding albums on my left. God, I was soooo tired of both Vais men. They were like those theater masks: one comedy, the other tragedy. Neither entertaining. “Why is everything a joke to you? Can’t you ever be serious?”
“You mean, like Jimmy?”
I dipped my head to hide the blush blooming heat across my cheeks. “What does your brother have to do with anything?”
“I saw you two together last night at the houses on Schooner. You guys dating?”
“No,” I said a little too fast.
His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his feet to the floor. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s true! I’m not interested in dating your brother—or anyone else, for that matter. Not that it’s any of your business, but the only reason Jimmy and I were together last night was because my grandmother invited him over for dinner. She feels sorry for him.”
Justin busted out laughing. “For Jimmy? Mr. Uptight? The man who irons his socks?”
I snorted back my own laughter at the visual his comment created in my head: Jimmy in a tank-style white t-shirt and blue striped boxers, standing in front of an ironing board pressing creases into black dress socks. “He doesn’t do that.” I leaned forward and murmured, “Does he?”
He shrugged. “According to his ex-wife, yeah. I have no idea if he’s kept up the habit now that they’re not together, but I would imagine he has.”
“You still talk to his ex?”
“Nah. She complained about the sock thing while they were still married. She complained about a lot of things.”
“Is that why Jimmy hates you? Because you and his wife talked about him?” See what I mean about my nervous mouth? I should’ve let the matter drop, but no. I had to keep talking about issues that were none of my business and honestly, stuff I really didn’t care about.
Justin slid his legs to the floor and sat upright. “He told you that? That he hates me?”
“Of course not. At least, not in so many words, but...” At last, my mouth got the hints my brain sent, and I clammed up.
“Uh-huh.” He swiped a pen from my desk and clicked the plunger up and down in a slow rhythm. “Tell me something. At that dinner your grandmother invited him to last night, was he nice to you? Or to her?”
I grimaced. “No. Not especially.”
He tossed the pen back on my desk and spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the club.” I assume my confusion showed on my face because he added, “Jimmy hates everyone right now.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “Not my story to tell. Besides, I didn’t come here to talk about my brother.”
I glanced at the clock behind me, hoping his gaze would follow mine and he’d take the hint. “Well, whatever you came for, make it fast. My first appointment of the day will be here soon, and I need to set up before they get here.” Lie. I left the same basic setup in place through most of December, a wintry backdrop of pine trees in a snow-covered field, with an old-fashioned wooden sled for the kids to sit in, and some snow-related props. All anybody wanted at this time of year was holiday photos, so why bother to break it all down only to set it back up the next day? Although, I admit I do add a few tweaks for each individual family so their photos don’t look like those cookie-cutter style they’d get at the local discount store and had more artistry than a shot of the family standing in front of the Christmas tree they might have taken last October and had printed onto cards by some mail-order company.
“We can talk while you work, if that’s better for you. I can help.” A twinkle in his eye brightened his face. It was a shame how appealing he could look. If only he didn’t see everything as a joke. “You’re not the only creative person in town, you know.”
My attitude softened as I recalled the photos I’d taken of his landscaping projects, his precise geometric patterns, the ingenious use of color, how natural each plant or flower seemed in its bed. “You’re really good,” I admitted in a hush. “Much better than I am.”
“Not better. Different. I saw the pictures you took of the Haley twins. Those are pure magic. Like, Currier and Ives seen through a modern lens. A study of dark and light with a burst of life to draw the eye. Amazing.”
I cocked my head at him. Was he making fun of me? His expression didn’t show any malice or sarcasm. “You really think so?”
“You bet.” He picked up the pen again, popped the plunger up and down a few times, then pointed the exposed nib at me. “You know, you and I have a similar creative style. Stark but wild.” His features sobered. “I wouldn’t have given Mrs. Haley an exclusive on that particular technique, though—especially not at Christmastime when your skills are in demand.”
This time, I felt my eyes go buggy. “How did you know about that?”
“Same way I know about the pictures. Lawrence Haley couldn’t wait to brag about how his wife got one over on you.”
What?! I sagged in my chair. I should’ve known. God, I was the world’s biggest sap. “You mean she lied to me? About her mother-in-law and all her insecurities?”
How could I be so naïve? Just like turning down the magazine piece about the Murrieres, I’d let my empathy overrule financial common sense. No wonder my business was in trouble. I was such a sucker—even Nana was able to put one over on me—more than once! I rubbed my hand over my right eye where a headache took root and blossomed.
“Hey,” Justin murmured and chucked me under the chin. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t even speak to her, so who knows? You never can tell what’s going on in someone else’s marriage. Maybe everything she told you is true, but she doesn’t admit it to her husband. We all have secrets.”
I suspected he tried to mollify me about the Haleys and resolved to let my self-recriminations go. So I’d screwed up. Again. What else was new? Nothing I could do about it now. I’d made an agreement with Mrs. Haley and, good or bad, I’d stick with it.
“If we all have secrets...” I leaned over the desktop again and whispered in a conspiratorial manner, “What’s yours?”
He wagged a finger in front of my face. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. Besides, don’t women like a man with an air of mystery?”
Frowning, I pulled back fast. “I don’t. I’ve lived my life with too many secrets. Now, I expect total honesty from everybody I deal with.”
“Yeah? How’s that going for you?”
“Apparently,” I said, recalling Mrs. Haley’s manipulation, “not as well as I thought.”
“I understand why you think you need that level of trust, but most people don’t have your life experience. If you keep expecting everyone you deal with to be as honest as you, you’re going to find yourself eternally disappointed.” He got to his feet. “I should get to work.”
Thank God. He was finally leaving. But, wait. Curiosity got the better of me. “Hey. You never told me what you wanted.”
He paused in mid-step. “Wanted?”
I swallowed a sigh of impatience. “Yeah. Why’d you come in here?”
He ruffled the top of my head with the flat of his hand. “I came to say hello, Bon. Have a good day. I’ll see you around.”
Before I could pick my stunned jaw up off the desk, he was gone.
♥♥♥♥
ALTHEA
I was grateful Siobhan was gone by the time Lou and I woke up around ten on Saturday morning. I wouldn’t want her to think her old granny was a floozy. Up until last night, I’d only slept with one man: Archie. Far be it from me to compare him to Lou, but I will say they had vastly different techniques in the sack. Maybe that was due to age and other circumstances. Archie, the lover of my youth, was exuberant, intense, and often, finished before I was, but always up for another round quick enough to make it worth my while. Over time, though, our romantic moments became more routine and less exciting. On the other hand, since he and I were more mature now, Lou took all his cues from my actions and reactions. Each step of the way, he let me lead. Like his asking permission to kiss me, the power shift in bed was a heady experience for me.
I suppose it’s all about timing. When I was young and eager to experience all life had to offer, Archie’s enthusiasm left me breathless. Whereas, in my silver years, when I wanted a more calming presence around me, Lou made me feel cherished. In both cases, their style fit me perfectly for the time we were together. I wouldn’t say I loved Lou—certainly not in the way I’d loved Archie, enough to forgive flaws and the occasional rearing of his ugly side. No, Lou and I had more of a...comforting familiarity with each other.
“Hey. You with me here, Thea?”
I blinked at Lou’s prompt, snapping out of my musings. We sat in a booth at the local diner—two of only a handful of customers in the joint on this frigid morning. The late morning sun streamed through the windows overlooking Main Street and burned my retinas whenever I tried to look directly at him. That sun was deceiving, offering light but no real warmth.
Once again, I thought about Lou and wondered if I’d made a mistake, jumping so fast into bed with him. Ridiculous. We weren’t teenagers fumbling with a crush, dreaming of happily-ever-afters, white houses with picket fences, and two-point-five kids. We were both adults with past lovers and a lot of history behind us. No surprise pregnancy would compel us into a hasty marriage and a forced happily-ever-after. But I digress...
Maybe, over time, the newness of Lou’s approach would wear off like it had when I was with Archie. Maybe I’d grow restless again.
Lou’s hard stare bored into me, and I glanced down at the two sunny-side-up eggs congealing into a cold mess on my plate. “Sorry. I tend to be a little reflective in the morning. I usually do yoga and meditate when I first wake up.”
He speared a piece of sausage on his fork. “You went real deep there for a minute. Wanna tell me what made you go all spacey?”
And admit I was comparing his prowess to Archie’s? No, thank you. My brain fumbled for something reasonable to say instead. I pointed to the Chinese takeout place across the street. “I remember when that was Cassone’s Hardware Store.”
He shifted in the red leatherette booth to stare out the window behind his big bushy head, then returned a solemn gaze to me. “A lot of Snug Harbor has changed over the years.”
“I’ll say.” I sighed and picked up my coffee cup. “It sucks.”
“Aw, c’mon,” he said in a wheedling tone. Did I mention I hate wheedling? “It’s not all bad.”
I took a sip of my coffee and grimaced. While I’d been daydreaming, it wasn’t only my eggs that had grown cold. In disgust, I looked around the place for our waitress. A busboy spotted me holding the white ceramic cup and must have realized I needed a refill. He picked up the glass carafe from the industrial coffeemaker and sauntered over, but before he got too close, I called out, “Could you grab a clean cup, too? There’s no room in this one to top me off.”
The kid made a U-turn, grabbed a fresh ceramic cup from a tray behind him and headed back toward me. With a flourish, he presented the new cup, filled it with steaming black coffee, and topped off Lou’s half-filled cup, as well. Taking my tepid coffee with him, he retreated to the glass case that displayed the usual variety of desserts: carrot cake, rice pudding, chocolate eclairs, those dry crumbly butter cookies.
After adding cream and sugar, I took a healthy gulp and delighted in the heat and caffeine that coursed through my body. Rejuvenated at last, I continued our conversation, remaining on the safe nostalgia path. “Do you know what I miss? Drive-in movies.”
His expression lightened to a knowing grin. “Necking in the backseat?”
I snorted. “Archie drove a Beetle. Very little room for anything in the backseat.”
“And yet you managed to get pregnant before you were married,” he pointed out, using his empty fork as a baton. “I take it that didn’t happen in the back of the Beetle then?”
I mock-shivered and clapped a hand to my heart. “Oh, my stars and garters! Let’s not revive the scandal. My parents will start rolling over in their graves—and I really don’t want to upset them any more than I already did. They never got over my unladylike behavior. Oh, they put it aside after my miscarriage, for the sake of the family reputation. Without a bastard baby to whine about, they had no reason to keep shunning me, and the town would eventually turn on them for it if they hadn’t come around.”
He shook his head. “You were always so judgmental about them.”
“I lived with them. I knew what they were like. After I first got pregnant, I might as well have walked around with a giant red H on my chest for the rest of my life.”
“H?”
“Harlot,” I explained, my expression grim.
He, on the other hand, chuckled. “Funny. I always loved that most about you. The way you could take any situation, no matter how serious, and find some humor in it. You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever known.”
I snorted, sending a mini windstorm across the coffee’s creamy surface. “Hmmph! That’s easy to say when you don’t live with me.” The nickname slammed out from my memory with a mélange of resentment and pride. “You know what Archie used to call me? ‘Hurricane Althea.’”
He sat back and rested his arms across the top of the leather bench. “You know why hurricanes were always named after women in the old days?”
I shook my head.
“Because they demand respect from the men who dare to challenge them. They’re strong, unpredictable, and they don’t take crap from anyone.” His eyes lit up, and he shifted forward again, his arms now at his sides. “I love a good hurricane. All they need is someone who knows how to steer into calmer waters under a steady hand.”
His words were gruff, thick with admiration. I sensed his hero worship had shifted from storms to something more personal—or rather, someone. Me. Maybe sleeping with him was a bad idea after all. I had seen last night as a fun way to improve an evening that had started to go south, but it looked like Lou threw a whole lotta extra meaning into our few hours of bliss. I liked Lou, but I didn’t invite him into my bed because I was looking for another man to rule my life. I loved my freedom, had waited too long to taste it. I spent most of my life under other men’s thumbs: first, my father’s, and then, Archie’s. I had that brief respite when I lived in Lou’s mother’s basement, but I never fully embraced my independent nature and lived my life solely on my own until Archie passed away, God rest his soul. And I wasted too much of that time in the boring land of the undead, Florida. Now that I was home, I reveled in every minute of unscheduled, unpredictable time. Once gained and tasted, I wouldn’t surrender my autonomy so easily.
I inched my butt to the edge of the booth. “I should get home. I want to surprise Siobhan by putting up some of the Christmas decorations while she’s at work. Maybe that’ll cheer her up. She’s mourning her mother’s loss for too long now.” I pointed to his plate where a single slice of bacon remained. “Are you done?”
Disappointment clouded his features for the briefest blink of my eyes, then disappeared behind his usual bluster. “I’ll help you.”
Darn it all. Did I have to spell it out for him? “No, you don’t have to.”
“I insist.”
I sighed. Yup. I was going to have to be straight with him. Honest to God, sometimes men could be so obtuse. “Lou, listen. I like you—”
He lumbered to his feet to face me, one hand upheld to stop my speech before I could get to the “as a friend” part. “No, you listen. I’m not asking for more than you’re willing to give, Thea. You’re like the sun to me. I’m happy as long as I’m in your orbit.”
I shuffled my feet and stared out the window, wondering if I could walk the two miles home in this cold.
“Look, I’m sorry if what I say makes you uncomfortable, but you should know how I feel about you. I’ve never made any secret about it. I’ve waited fifty years for you to care about me.”
“I do care, Lou.”
“You know what I mean. Now that I no longer have to compete with Archie, I want to give you an opportunity to see me as me. Not in comparison to him.”
I fisted my hands at my sides, trying not to melt under the heat of his gaze. Inside, I winced. Had he figured out I’d been making that comparison only minutes ago?
“I’m a patient man, Thea. I’ll wait another fifty years, if that’s what it takes.” He chuckled. “I hope it doesn’t. Don’t push me away again. Give me a chance to be part of your world this time, even if it’s from a distance.”
What in Aunt Annie’s fanny was I supposed to say to that? To deny him now would be like yanking the lollipop away from a happy toddler. I planted my hands on my hips. No way I’d surrender too easily to this charming sea captain.
“You’ll give me space?” I phrased it more of a command, less of a question. “And plenty of time?”
He nodded. “All the time and space you need.”
“I mean it, Lou. I’m kinda liking my life as it is right now, uncomplicated and footloose. I don’t want to be tied down.”
“Neither do I.”
I hesitated. “You sure about this? I’m a giant pain-in-the-butt.”
He grabbed me by the forearms, pulled me against him, and kissed me ‘til I was dizzy. “I’ll take my chances.”
So would I. I guess.