Change of Tides, page 6
He gestures at the crackers. “I’ve been snacking. I’m not very hungry.”
“My dinner was less than satisfying, one bone-in chicken breast and a scoop of lumpy mashed potatoes. Wanna order a pizza?” Suspecting he doesn’t have money for pizza, she adds, “My treat.”
His lips curl up in a grateful smile. “I won’t say no to pizza.”
Retrieving her laptop from her bedroom, she sits down beside him on the sofa and orders a pizza. The past three years fall away, and they’re back in their beloved home on the inlet, watching a movie and eating pizza as they often did on Saturday nights.
When the movie ends, Cary points the remote at the television, powering it off. “Early day tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm.” Birdie doesn’t get up, even though she’s sitting on his bed. They remain on opposite ends of the sofa with feet planted on the floor and staring forward, avoiding looking at each other.
“I enjoyed working behind the counter today. If you need me, I’m available the rest of the weekend.”
“Deal. I’ll pay you, of course.”
He tosses the remote on the coffee table. “You don’t have to, since I’m living here for free, and you just bought me pizza.”
“No way. I insist. You’re a good worker. The customers like you.”
“Since I haven’t had any luck with law firms, or any other reputable business in town, I’m thinking I’ll apply for jobs at some of the retail establishments on The Avenue like Freeman’s Hardware. Maybe Shaggy will hire me. That way I can earn some money while I’m waiting for something better to come along.”
The unspoken hangs in the air between them. What if something better doesn’t come along? “That’s an excellent idea.”
“I had no idea the impact my disappearance would have on my future. I got caught up in the moment. Melinda snared me into her trap. I got greedy. I wanted the white sandy beaches and hundred-foot yachts. Our marriage had grown—”
“Stale,” she says, finishing his sentence.
Cary shakes his head. “Not stale. Comfortable. I should’ve been satisfied with that.”
“I wasn’t satisfied either, Cary. The boredom drove me to drink. We let each other down. We should’ve tried harder, should’ve traveled, gone out more with friends.”
He turns his head to look at her. “Are you saying you forgive me?”
“For abandoning me? Never. You took the coward’s way out. But I understand why you made your choices.” Her eyes well with tears. “My drinking drove you into the arms of another woman.”
He thumbs a tear off her cheek. “You appear to have gotten your drinking under control.”
She sniffles. “I had to. I nearly drank myself to death after you left. With Birdie’s help, I was able to quit.”
He shifts his body toward her. “Would you consider giving me a second chance? We were once so good together. We could have that again.”
Birdie jumps to her feet. “No, Cary. Our marriage is over. I thought I made that clear when I agreed to let you stay here.”
She gathers her laptop and purse and fleas to the safety of her room. Dropping her things on her bed, she goes to stand beside the window. The full moon reflecting off the water helps calm her. She tries to imagine a second chance with Cary. They were once so in love. At least she thought it was love. They were best friends. Being together was the only thing that mattered. Their sex life was satisfying. Although she has little to compare it to. Before meeting Cary, Birdie’s experience with sex was limited to a few drunken encounters with frat boys in college. Perhaps she’s too old to know burning passion. If she gets another chance at love, why settle for anything less.
Seven
Saturday night--Hannah
Ethan makes an unexpected detour by his parents’ house on their way to dinner. “I want to show you something,” he explains as he turns onto one of Charleston’s most prestigious streets
“Okay,” she says slowly in a skeptical tone. What could he possibly want to show her at his parents’ house?
He passes through the gates of a large estate that features a three-story home, with double columned piazzas, and a small manicured side yard. Near the rear of the lot sits the original carriage built from the same old Charleston brick as the wall and main house.
Clara and Hugh Hayes greet them on the lower porch. Hannah guesses them to be a few years older than her mother, closer to sixty than fifty-five. Both are nice-looking, physically fit, and casually dressed in knee-length shorts and polo shirts. When Hugh offers her a cocktail, Hannah turns him down. Although she and Ethan took long naps on the boat, her head is still fuzzy from her afternoon buzz.
Ethan, too, turns down his father’s offer of a drink. “We can’t stay long. We have dinner reservations at eight.”
“My son shared your work with me,” Hugh says. “I’m impressed. You have quite the creative eye.”
Hannah’s face warms. Is he interviewing her? “Thank you.”
“Do you have a special someone in your life?” Clara asks.
Hannah immediately thinks of Gus. “No, ma’am.”
“Mom, Jeez.” Ethan says. “Give Hannah a break.”
“Can’t blame your old mom for trying. Pretty girl that she is.” Clara’s lips part in a mischievous smile as she sips her vodka tonic.
Hannah smiles awkwardly. What will Clara think when she finds out Hannah is a single mom of a three-year-old son?
Ethan rolls his eyes at Hannah. “Ignore her. I brought you here for a reason, not to subject you to an inquisition.” His gaze shifts to Hugh. “Dad has recently retired after forty years of practicing medicine.” He gives his dad a fist bump. “They have a number of trips planned for the next few years.”
“We’re making up for lost time,” Clara interjects.
Hugh nods. “And we’re hoping to find someone to rent the carriage house and look after the property while we’re gone.”
“Small things like collecting the mail and watering plants,” Clara says. “Nothing major. Since you’re moving in from out of town, we thought you might be interested. I think you’ll find the rent affordable.”
When she says the amount, Hannah’s eyes go wide. Not only affordable but a steal.
“Would you like to see the carriage house?” Clara asks.
“Sure,” Hannah says with a shrug of indifference. She doesn’t want to appear overly excited in case it doesn’t work out. In case she turns down the partnership offer.
They leave the men on the porch. As Hannah and Clara stroll together down the brick sidewalk, she imagines Gus running in circles around the fountain and climbing the sprawling oak tree.
The carriage house is bigger than her mother’s apartment above the cafe but smaller than the house for sale on Summer Street. The one-story floorpan offers two bedrooms and a single bath. In the living room and adjacent kitchen, natural lights spills in through curved windows that were once bays for the horses.
“Ethan has told us how hesitant you are to leave Palmetto Island. I don’t blame you. I’ve been there many times myself, and I find the area quite lovely. He thought this might help you make your decision. If you’d like, we can do a month-to-month lease. You can live here until you get more acquainted with Charleston.”
“That would be nice.” When Clara appears hopeful, Hannah quickly adds, “If I decide to accept his offer.”
“I understand.” Clara locks the door, and they start back toward the house. “Our first trip isn’t until October. I’m happy to hold it for you until the end of the summer. I’m sure we won’t have any trouble finding a tenant if things don’t work out. But I’d rather have someone I know taking care of my home.”
“I don’t blame you,” Hannah says. “I won’t drag this thing out. It’s not fair to Ethan, and I don’t like having such a monumental decision hanging over my head.”
As they approach the porch, Ethan says, “Well? What do you think?”
Hannah smiles in response to his eager expression. “I think it’s very nice. Perfect, actually. I appreciate your parents giving me the opportunity.”
“Great!” He steps down off the porch. “Then, let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
Clara gives Hannah her number in case she has questions, and Hannah thanks them again in parting.
Hannah is quiet, lost in thought, on the way to the restaurant. Ethan’s parents seemed to know a lot about her. Which means Ethan has talked to them about her. Which must mean that he’s close to them. Like she’s close to Birdie.
“Are you an only child?” she asks as he’s manuring the Porsche into a small space on a side street.
He puts the car in gear and kills the engine. “Is it that obvious?”
“Takes one to know one,” she says, opening her door. “Where are we going to dinner?”
“Husk. If you’ve never been, you’re in for a treat.”
The hostess is young and beautiful and calls Ethan by his first name as though they are friends. “As you requested, we have a table for you on the upstairs porch,” she says to Ethan without so much as a glance at Hannah. Handsome and successful, he undoubtedly has girls falling all over him all the time.
They follow the hostess up the stairs and through the dining room to a table for two on the porch. She waits for them to sit down before handing them menus. “Call me sometime, Ethan,” she says and saunters off, giving her hips an extra shake for Ethan’s benefit.
“Old girlfriend?” Hannah asks, her eyes on the menu.
“Childhood friend.”
She waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t.
She stares across the balcony at the people wondering about on Queen Street below. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing at the ancient brick building next door.
“The bar at Husk.” When she furrows her brow, he adds, “That’s what they call it. It’s seriously cool, very authentic. We can go there after dinner for drinks, if you’d like.”
Hannah sets her menu down. “I forgot to tell you. My best friend Liza is dating your high school buddy, Stuart.”
Ethan flashes his phone at her. “I already heard. Stuart texted me earlier about getting together with us later.”
Hannah squirms in her seat. This feels too much like a date. Couples getting together with other couples for drinks.
She’s relieved when their waiter appears, saving her from having to respond.
They both order shrimp and grits and a glass of Rose. Ethan hands the waiter the menus. “And can we please have an order of skillet cornbread to share.”
During dinner, Hannah makes certain their conversation stays focused on business. She grows more comfortable with her role in the partnership and less comfortable with the thought of moving to Charleston. The Hayes’s property is spectacular, the carriage house charming. But it’s not Palmetto Island. If only she didn’t have to move. If only she could buy the house on Summer Street and work remotely.
Their phones simultaneously ping with incoming texts. They drop their gazes to their phone screens. “Stuart,” he says, and she nods. “Liza.”
Ethan’s tone is less than enthusiastic when he asks, “Do you want to meet them for a drink?”
“Not really. I’ve had enough alcohol for one day.” While a noisy bar sounds miserable, she’s not yet ready to go back to Liza’s empty apartment. “I wouldn’t mind taking a walk, though.” She looks out over the buildings of downtown Charleston at the full moon on the horizon. “The moon is beautiful. I’ve photographed it so many times, but my pictures never do it justice.”
“That’s it then. We’ll go for a walk along the sea wall. Let me get our check,” he says and summons the waiter.
They park his car at his waterfront condo and walk down East Bay Street to the tip of promenade, across from Battery Park. They lean against the railing, gazing at the moon beams shimmering off the water.
“I was an ass earlier today on the beach,” Ethan says. “I hope I didn’t scare you off. I am attracted to you, Hannah. Any man in his right mind would be. But I’m capable of remaining in the friend zone for the sake of our business relationship.”
Hannah’s feelings for Ethan confuse her. She enjoys his company. Being with him makes her all warm and cozy one minute and tingling with excitement the next. But she’s never been one for casual sex. Even when she got pregnant with Gus, she was in a relationship. That’s also the last time she slept with anyone, almost four years ago. And the thought of having sex terrifies her. Yet her stomach flip flops everything he touches her.
Why can’t she make up her mind about this partnership? She’s not usually so wishy washy, but she’s equally torn between accepting his offer and buying the house on Summer Street. What’s holding her back? Then, suddenly it dawns on her. While her personal life is none of his business, she feels dishonest in keeping Gus a secret.
“I need to tell you something, Ethan.”
He fingers a lock of hair off her forehead. “What do you need to tell me?”
The image of them lying naked in bed together, sweaty from sex with their limbs entwined, comes to mind. “Never mind.”
He rests his hand on her back. “No, something’s on your mind. You can talk to me, Hannah. I’m a good listener.”
She inhales a deep breath. “I have a three-year-old son. I got pregnant my senior year in college, and I chose to keep the baby.”
Ethan’s face falls and he drops his hand from her back. “Oh.”
Hannah’s heart pounds against ribcage. He’s upset. What did she expect? “If I decide to take your offer, I promise I won’t let being a single mom get in the way of my performance. But I thought you should know. Your parents may feel differently about me renting their carriage house.”
Ethan straightens. Raking his hands through his sandy hair, he says, “But I checked you out. How did I miss a kid?”
“I work hard to keep him out of the public eye.” She doesn’t tell Ethan why. That Gus’s father doesn’t know he exists.
She desperately needs to hear Ethan say that it doesn’t matter. That this doesn’t affect his offer. That he’s still attracted to her. Instead, he says, “Thanks for telling me.” And what follows is even more devastating. “I should get you home.”
Eight
Sunday
Stan’s sport fishing boat, Island Daze, is idling at the end of the main marina dock when Birdie hurries down the ramp, flip flops flapping on the wooden boards and hand on sunhat to keep it from flying off. Stan waits for her in the boat’s cockpit, amidst an assortment of inner tubes and paddle boards.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, slightly out of breath.
“Five minutes isn’t late. We’re on Palmetto Island time.” Stan extends an arm, helping her on board. He pecks her cheek. “It’s so nice to see you again, Birdie.”
His genuine warmth sets Birdie at ease, and she smiles at him. “And you as well. Thank you for having me.”
“So.” He clasps his hands together. “While I was waiting for you, I overheard some fishermen talking. They spotted an enormous school of dolphin just offshore. Wanna go check them out?”
“I would love that.”
“Then what are we waiting for.” After untying the lines, he takes her bag from her while she climbs the ladder to the flybridge.
She hesitates when she reaches the top, not sure where to sit. Stan joins her, tossing her bag on the bench seat in front of the console and motioning her to the swivel seat next to the captain’s chair.
The tide is low, and when he puts the engines in gear, the propellers churn mud off the stern of the boat. “Busy weekend?” he asks as he guides them out of the marina.
She nods. “Very.”
“We’ve been slammed at the store. I barely managed to get away.” Stan’s store, Island Water Sports, is a destination for lowcountry boat owners and water sports enthusiasts. He carries everything from men’s and women’s apparel to medium size boats.
He settles back in his chair. “You’re smart to close at two on Sundays. How did you come up with that idea? Is that an off-peak time for you?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I adopted the hours when I bought the bakery from Amber. I figured our customers were already trained, so why change anything. Sunday afternoons have become sacred for me, the one time during the week when I can totally relax.”
“When you’re open seven days a week, you need a break every now and then. I’ve been considering closing on Mondays. We’d have to make exceptions for holidays that fall on Mondays like Memorial Day and Labor Day. Those are top-selling days for us.”
Birdie considers this before answering. “You might find you like having the time to reset the store after the weekend. And it would help with managing employee time off. Surprisingly, Mondays are busy for us. Our customers need strong coffee and comfort food to get them through the first day of the work week.”
Stan chuckles. “I can totally relate.” He places his right hand on the throttles. “I’m gonna speed up. Hold on to your hat.”
Birdie snatches her hat off her head and holds it tight in her lap as the engines rumble and the boat comes up out of the water. She studies Stan as he navigates through the channel to the mouth of the inlet and out into the ocean. He’s of average height and build with salt and pepper hair and a scruffy beard. While his eyes are hidden by Costas sunglasses, visible laugh lines are a sign of his happy-go-lucky personality.
Birdie knew his wife, but they were never friends. How long have Stan and Shannon been divorced? Five or six years? Birdie wonders, as she often has, if there’s any truth to the unconfirmed rumors about Shannon being gay.
They’ve only been in the ocean a few minutes when Stan yells, “Look! Dophin! Off the starboard side.” He slows the boat and puts the engines in neutral. “They’re everywhere.”
All around them, a sea of black porpoises leap out of the water and dive back in. “They’re amazing.”
