Second Chances in Cheshire Bay, page 7
“See? Still not good with the one hand.” His smooth voice cut through my daydreams.
“You’re sure I can’t help?”
“That’s not necessary. I invited you over.”
“I swear I don’t mind.”
It was a resigned sigh, but he backed away. “Okay. Have at it, but I was kind of looking forward to having spaghetti.” With a resigned shrug, he opened the garbage door for me to drop in my floor noodles. “Use anything you need.”
“Anything?”
“If you can find it, use it.”
Quickly opening the cupboards and fridge, I assessed what was at my disposal, and pulling things out, I set them on the marble countertops and naturally went to work. If he wanted comfort food, it was going to be amazing, as it should be.
“When did you move out to this area?” I asked, opening a can of tomato sauce, and pouring it into a pan. His family, like my own, lived in the Sannich area, and I couldn’t imagine them living any place else.
“Six years ago?” There was a subtle shrug. “After my divorce.” The chair on the opposite side of the island scraped across the hardwood floor.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Not sure why I was shocked he’d been married; he was a good-looking guy with a great financial lineage. Maybe it was because it hadn’t been me? Although we were never engaged, getting married had been something that had crossed into our conversations – frequently – especially just before we broke up.
“Don’t be. I bought into the illusion, and I paid the price. Considering the alimony she demanded, it’s fair to say she was after the money. Too bad for her though as she signed a prenup and settled with next to nothing.”
Ah, yes, a prenup would’ve been a condition. Mrs. Sutcliff would’ve seen to that. “Were you married long?”
“Our divorce was longer.”
I grimaced. “Ouch.”
He picked at an invisible grain of dust on the immaculate counter. “My parents didn’t care for her either.”
“I got the impression that no woman would ever be good enough for her little boy.” Instantly, I hated myself for mocking her, but Mrs. Sutcliff had always cupped Benjamin’s chin and asked how her ‘widdle boy’ was doing like he was five and not eighteen. It was embarrassing.
He hung his head and his shoulders rolled in. “Yeah, my mother isn’t the warmest person, but she has the best intentions.”
I kept my eyeroll to a minimum, which I hid as I rummaged through his fridge. Not finding what I wanted, I turned my attention back to the stove.
“How are your parents doing?” After pulling out the few wet noodles that had actually made it into the water, I turned the water down. Didn’t need it on a full boil just yet.
“Great. Inching closer to retirement every year. Originally Dad said it would be fifty-five, but now I’m thinking maybe sixty? It’s hard when you’re the top partner at the firm.”
“I imagine it would be.”
Mr. Sutcliff had been more of an enigma rather than a familiar face in my teen years, and I’d only had the insane pleasure of Mrs. Sutcliff on occasion, typically when she clucked at me for not being as prim and proper as she brought up her son to be. Oftentimes, I wondered if she was a distant relative of Carleen, my wicked stepmother.
Benjamin twisted in his seat. “And your parents? How are they? Proud you became a doctor, I’ll bet. And why the different last name?”
“Tarkin was my mother’s maiden name, and I use it in her honour. She passed away ten years ago.” The ache over that huge loss and void in my life never diminished, and my eyes instantly welled up in response.
He reached across the island and held my hand. “I’m so sorry. She was always so sweet, and I really liked her.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t want to pull my hand away, but the sauce was slowly bubbling. “Not long after Mom passed, Dad married another, you know the type, the stereotypical evil step-wife who came complete with a set of hellish twins.” I diced a green pepper with ease and dumped the pieces into the sauce. “Fresh garlic?”
“Over there.” He pointed to a dish tucked beside the fridge. “Not good kids I take it?”
“Terrors. Entitled, spoiled terrors, who are now in the early tween age and adding grey hairs to my dad on a daily basis with their raunchy behaviour.” At least last I heard. Our conversations had dropped from weekly when I lived in Sannich to maybe a handful since I ‘broke his heart by moving away.’
“That’s no fun.”
“Nope.” I crushed two cloves with the side of my knife. “Do you like a lot of garlic?”
“Yep.”
I crushed another but set it aside with plans on roasting it. I’d mix it in with the butter and spread it on a couple of pieces of French bread. “And now look at you - you’re an author. Gave up law school and all your trust fund money?”
His good hand ran through his hair. “You remembered about Grandma’s trust fund.”
“Hard to forget. Not everyone gets a sweet paycheque for just being family.”
Back in our late teens, Benjamin talked openly about how on his twenty-fifth birthday, there was a giant trust fund in his name. If he knew how much he had coming, I never knew, but it was more than enough to pay for all his higher-level education and living expenses and then some.
“Yeah, well, that money came with strings. Lots of strings.” He tightened and relaxed his fist. It appeared a touch swollen.
“Elevate it a little.” I gestured to what I wanted him to do with his arm.
“Thanks. Anyway…” he sighed. “I went to law school, and passed the bar, just like the good boy I was. Except I wasn’t happy. Writing was a form of therapy, and I wrote in my spare time, short stories here and there. After a bit, I ended up writing a full-length novel and decided to go all in and be like John Grisham.”
“That name rings a bell.”
The sauce was on a slow boil, and I added more fresh ingredients along with a dozen spices.
“He was the lawyer who became the best-selling novelist of The Firm and The Pelican Brief.”
“Oh, right. Are you a best-selling novelist too?”
A faint tinge of colour crossed his cheeks. “Yeah. Highest I ever got was #56 on the Wall Street Journal list, and #9 on the USA Today list.”
“Holy smokes.” My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. I had no idea he’d become that successful. Guess it explains the fancy house and car, could likely do that without the cushion of family money.
“My dream is to hit the New York Times bestseller, and maybe soon, I’ll get there.”
No doubt he’d make it too. He’d always been a goal-setter and a go-getter. “What do you write? Legal thrillers?”
“Maybe.” There it was again, that sweet grin; the kind that melted the icicles off my beating heart.
Thrillers weren’t the first genre of books I’d reach for, but perhaps I’d have to check out. “Good for you.”
“Thanks.” He shifted on his seat, keeping a visual hold on me as I puttered around his kitchen. “Why did you move here? Wasn’t your dad a doctor with a thriving practice in Victoria?”
“Yeah, but I needed to break away. Be my own person. Run my own clinic. You know, find myself.” With that, I gazed into his eyes.
So far, all I’d managed to find in Cheshire Bay was higher debt. Friends were few and far between, as were the men. Guys my age were all spoken for, and the older ones weren’t interesting. My choice of availability had shifted to the younger set, which occasionally worked in my favour, as they were malleable, and I could mould them into what I needed. Until they got their university acceptance letter. I was no closer to settling down than when I moved six months ago. Still, I tried to keep the optimism up.
“Change comes from within.”
“And you’ve definitely changed.” What that pride in his warm and husky voice?
“Sometimes a spark is all that’s needed to get a fire going.” Or a backhanded compliment where, when you pulled back the layers, was a lot nastier than first believed.
“Well, you seem happy, and you look fabulous.” His gaze raked over the body I had worked really hard on over the last few years.
“Losing fifty pounds has that tendency. Now, I am in control of my life, and that makes me happy.” But the truth was, I wasn’t happy, like something was missing from my life. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was though.
I thought having a fulfilling career was enough, but there was still an ache, and seeing Benjamin again after all this time, reminded me how much that ache throbbed.
Chapter Nine
The clatter of silverware against the empty plates echoed in the kitchen, along with the sounds of contented sighs.
“That dinner was amazing.” Benjamin rubbed his tummy. “Thank you.”
“Nah. It was pretty simple.” A sense of pride bubbled inside, as I still had the touch. I managed to dazzle him with my cooking, just like the old days.
“You made a sauce from scratch, and it was way better than anything I’ve ever gotten from a jar.”
“Well… that’s your first problem. Fresher is always better.”
Although… the dried pasta, along with a couple of thick slices of French bread loaded with homemade garlic butter, were starting to give me a bit of bloat. It had been a long time since I’d indulged in such a carbohydrate-heavy meal, and no doubt, tomorrow I was going to feel sluggish and gross. However, I enjoyed every single bite, and the company was delightful too.
I walked my dishes over to the counter.
“Just leave it. I’ll get to it later.” Benjamin met me at the counter, his own dishes still on the table, with his cloth napkin covering it.
I surveyed the kitchen; saucepans and knives and a pile of dishes begged to be cleaned. In good conscience, I couldn’t leave the mess. “This will only take a minute.”
“I can do it later.”
I cocked an eyebrow and tipped my head to the side while staring at his arm. “Really? How?”
His sore shoulder dropped. “Fine. You got me. The housekeeper will take care of it.”
“I knew it.” Not sure why I needed to gloat and imaginarily jab him in the gut. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise. The Sutcliffs had never been fond of housework, it was beneath them. “However, I can’t leave it like this. I made this mess.”
“Trust me, you can.” His good hand covered mine.
I shook my head, watching his face for signs of a protest. Beneath the well-mannered jocularity, it was there, hidden in his tone. “Well, at least let me soak them, make it a little easier.”
Before he could stop me, I filled the sink with hot soapy water and submerged the dishes, ending with a quick wipe of the counter.
“Happy?” He rocked on his heels.
I let a smile bubble to my lips, the playfulness riper than the lingering garlic on my breath. “Getting there.”
“Would you like to take a walk? There’s a great beach just down the road.”
“I’d love to.” I patted my stomach, feeling it expand with each passing minute. I was going to look pregnant soon if I didn’t get outside and pass some gas.
Passing by the curving staircase on the way to the front door, I peeked my head into the study. “This where the magic happens?”
“Most of the time.”
“May I?” I wanted to get a better insight into this fresh persona of Benjamin’s I never saw coming.
He waved me in. “Please do.”
The room was a disorganized disaster, such a contrast to the kitchen and living room. Clearly, no housekeeper was allowed beyond the door jam.
Piles of books stacked atop a small bookstand threatened to topple over with a slight breeze or minor floor vibration, and the giant whiteboard beside his desk was littered with coloured sticky notes and a chicken scratch writing my supervising doctor would be envious of.
“That’s my thought board. Once the ideas are perfected, I line up the notes in order.”
“I can understand why you’re suffering from writer’s block. This is a mess.”
The sticky notes contained brief one-line ideas like girlfriend from the past, stolen necklace, a court case no one thought would win. Not summaries really, but if everything was lined up, could make for an interesting plot.
“Good luck with that.” I spun away from him and scrolled through the bookshelves, on the prowl for his books.
“You won’t find them here.”
Ignoring his stance, I bent further down, reading every book spine. “And what do you think I’m looking for?”
“I order them from the publisher, and she sends me what I need to have on hand.” He kicked at a heavy-sounding box on the ground. “This was my last shipment.”
Standing upright, I crossed my arms. “Wouldn’t you need more than a box for market sales?”
“I had six. This one is all that remains.”
“Oh.” Shouldn’t have been a surprise. Clearly, he was a popular author and did quite well at the market. Good for him.
A sense of expectation laced through the air. He placed a hand in his pocket. “However, I didn’t invite you here to talk about my work, as we can save that for another visit. Are you still interested in that walk?”
“Yeah, sure.”
We stopped at the front closet, and he slid back the mirrored doors revealing a highly organized system of coats in order from dark to light, and a myriad of footwear all arranged the same way. Guess the only place he let a disaster form was his workspace. Everything else was prim and proper.
He pulled a navy-blue sweater from a hanger, and one-handed it to me. “It gets a little chilly on the beach with the breeze. I know it’s big now, but it’ll keep you warm.”
Back in high school, I was almost too big for his jacket, so it was a good feeling to be able to wear one now and have it hanging off my shoulders, like a boyfriend’s jacket should. Without a protest, I slipped my arms into the luxurious sweater, inhaling the scent of his cologne on the collar.
Benjamin pulled a sweater on as well, letting it drape over his casted arm.
Instinctively I reached out and buttoned one of his buttons. “Now you won’t have to worry about it falling off your shoulders.”
He looked down upon me with nothing more than grace and a hint of charm as he bopped the tip of my nose with his finger. “Who said I was worried?”
My breath caught in my throat, and a fresh swarm of butterflies zoomed around my expanding gut. Just breathing the same air as him was loosening the chains around my heart, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to let them fall away just yet.
“Shall we?” He pointed to the door.
We walked the length of his dimly lit driveway, out onto the road, and around the curl of the hillside. The whole time he chatted about his plans for the deck and his grand vision to add solar panels to the roof to make his home a net-zero one. It sounded like something out of a futuristic sci-fi novel, and I wondered if he wasn’t planning on switching genres.
Once we stepped off the road, the gravel path to the beach became a rickety boardwalk style, curving around the high grass, and extending out to the sea. A postcard-worthy beach, highlighted in the deep ambers of an oncoming sunset, stretched off to the side.
Did Summer know about this place? Adam was always showing her neat little hideaways. This had to have been on that list.
We walked the length of the boardwalk as it took us further out to the sea – beach on one side and an outcropping of rocks along the other. A gentle breeze wrapped around us as the sun hovered near the horizon.
“This place is amazing.” I sat on the wooden bench along one side.
Benjamin sat beside me. “I love to come out here and think. I work through some tough scenes listening to the waves and the seagulls.”
“You get writer’s block a lot?”
“Occasionally. I’m certainly suffering from it right now. Nothing I seem to do unlocks the creative juices. I tore down the old deck and have it about 90% finished, and I’m still no closer to coming up with a character name, let alone an adventure for him.”
“Call him Bill and send him on a mission to uncover whatever happened to his mother.” It sounded dull and boring just letting the words fill the air. Obviously, I wasn’t cut out to be a writer.
“No offence, but no. Especially to the Bill part. Not a hip enough name.”
“What about Joshua? He was a banker I met at the speed dating mixer. I’m sure there could be something malicious he uncovers. Like a wire transfer to a Norwegian Prince or something.” Joshua didn’t sound like an exciting guy in real life, but really, how can you get to know someone in nine minutes?
“Well, that’s a start.” He tipped his head to the side.
“See, I’m good for something.”
“Yeah, you are.” He bumped his good shoulder against mine. “Did the speed dating thing work out for you? Have you connected with anyone?”
“We’re going there?” Really, the only one I had connected with was beside me, and that totally came out of left field only because he wound up in my clinic.
“What?” He had the audacity to look surprised.
“Isn’t it enough for me to be sitting here with you without going into my personal life?” I crossed my legs and twisted away from him.
He tapped my knee. “Sorry. I just figured, you know, well, things just seem to be improving between us. It was just a casual conversation starter.”
Casual conversation starters aside, it was oddly nice to be able to talk with Benjamin again, like we had over supper, reminiscing over concerts, old school friends, and games we enjoyed playing. Our friendship had started out as high school friends sharing a love of chess.
A bird floated by; wings stretched out fully.
“Well, my personal life I keep pretty private. For obvious reasons.”
“Because of what you are? The what being a doctor.”
“Mainly.” I debated being totally honest or dancing around it, although I had nothing to lose. “Truthfully though,” I inhaled a fresh gulp of salty air. “It feels weird to talk to you about my love life.” Or lack of one as had been the course over the past month.
