Walking on Sea Glass

by Julie Carobini

  He nodded.

  She stopped. “Someone like you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, of course. What a beautiful way to honor your late wife.”

  He considered her earnest expression. “Yes, I think Anne would love that. If she could, she’d likely laugh about it, too, but in the end, it would make her happy to see me using what I’ve learned to honor her.”

  Wendy gripped his shoulder then. “Thank you so much, Beau. I’ve made business mistakes in the past, and I really, really needed your expertise.” She paused. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  He smiled back at her. This was one of the first times he could remember smiling when thinking about Anne. He had despised her suffering, and often when he thought about their time together his mind drifted to her pain-filled last days until the memories wrenched his insides. This time, however, he recalled all she had taught him about her love for art, and all he could do was smile.

  Wendy kept walking along the pier, talking non-stop about her ideas. He thought more about her business venture, too. Her idea would bring something new to this beach area. In fact, he could see the idea taking off in all kinds of venues, such as restaurants, doctor’s offices … even Liddy’s resort.

  Liddy.

  His heart constricted. She had grown distant lately, quiet. Did she … was she … he shook away the questions. He knew what she had been facing when he began dating her. Her prognosis had not only been good, but excellent. Surely if she were facing some challenge, she would tell him. He wanted to believe this. He’d confided in her often, especially in recent days, and she had allowed him his misery with open arms.

  “Can I buy you dinner?”

  Wendy’s question pulled Beau out of his deep thoughts. She watched him, her eyes wide and imploring.

  “Please? It’s my way of thanking you for being my sounding board.” She paused. “I’m very grateful to you.”

  He cradled the coffee in his hand, suddenly noticing that it had grown cool to the touch. A million conflicting thoughts battled in his brain, but one of them—the one that told him he was hungry—won out.

  “Sure. Let’s grab dinner.”

  Now that he sat here in his office, staring down at Liddy’s text, Beau knew he’d made a mistake.

  Chapter 22

  Liddy made her way into the inn’s bustling lobby, a thin thread of triumph buoying her. In only a few characters, she had told Beau what she knew and how she felt about it.

  Her phone rang, but Liddy ignored it. When it happened again, she switched the ringer to off and buried her phone deeper into her purse before shoving it into the concierge desk drawer.

  “You can answer that if you want,” Trace said as Liddy pinned her name tag onto her blouse.

  “It’ll wait. Busy day ahead.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  For the rest of the morning, guests continued to check out of the hotel as a slew of writing conference attendees streamed in. Liddy was being asked for everything from names of restaurants that could seat large and lively groups, to information on an infamous, decades-old crime scene in the town to the south for a curious bunch of mystery writers. Thankfully, additional concierge staff had been called in for the day.

  “Oh, hey, did you hear?” Trace asked in a lowered voice. “The big boss’s sister’s in town and she’s ordering all kinds of people around. Little brother’s none too happy about it, either.”

  “That bothers me to hear about family members feuding, especially publicly.”

  “Yeah, well, the more money that’s involved, the more it happens,” Trace said. “My uncle’s a lawyer, and sees all kinds of disputes and misunderstandings all the time.”

  “Those two things aren’t the same.”

  “Precisely. Half the time if people would only talk—and listen—to each other, they wouldn’t have so many problems.”

  Liddy looked up from her computer, half-expecting Trace to be staring into her soul. Instead, her co-worker held the phone in her hand, ready to make a call.

  “Have a question for me?” Trace asked.

  Liddy shook her head. “No, sorry. Just thinking.”

  Trace smirked. “If I had a nickel for every time I caught myself staring into space.”

  Despite the ringer’s silence, Liddy’s phone vibrated in the desk drawer.

  “Sure you don’t want to get that? My calls can wait.”

  Liddy swallowed. “Maybe I should.” She grabbed her phone from the drawer just as it stopped ringing. One glance at the screen told her that she had missed three calls from Beau. “Um, I think I’ll take a quick break outside. Be back in a sec.”

  She reached a bench in a sunny but secluded spot near the water, clicked on voice mail, but all Beau said was, “Please call me.”

  She twisted her lips, biting the inside of her mouth. Obviously, he had read her text—and he didn’t deny any of it.

  This morning when Meg had reluctantly given her the news, Liddy didn’t cry. She held it together, knowing that she’d been through worse than this, and besides, crying about it wouldn’t change a thing. But now, hearing the voice she had come to love, and painfully aware of his lack of explanation, she had to fight harder against the threat of untethered emotion. A fissure had begun in the wall she had built.

  She listened to the voice mail again, and huffed out a sigh. Calling back now would only complicate her day. And Beau’s. She stood, took another glance out at the calm water, and swallowed the tears. She made her way back to the resort, to the guests waiting for assistance, and stopped.

  Beau was waiting for her by the entrance, his face somber.

  A tear tickled her eye, and she swiped it away.

  “Liddy,” he said when she approached.

  She shook her head, her voice low. “Not now.”

  He nodded. “I understand, but we have to talk. Take a walk with me.”

  She nudged them away from the hotel entrance where valets and bellmen circulated. “I’ve already taken my break and I need to get back now.”

  He reached out and touched her wrist. “I want to explain, if you’ll let me.”

  “Then you’re saying there’s something to explain.”

  He didn’t reply.

  She glanced around, hoping no one had spotted them. “That makes it worse, in a way.”

  Beau lowered his head, as if examining the stone pattern on the ground, then glanced up at her. His eyes—those gorgeous hazel-brown eyes—implored her. “Wendy called me … she wanted to talk. That’s all it was—talking.”

  Liddy shook her head tightly, remembering the petite woman from church. “It’s pretty immature to … to blame this on her.”

  Beau dropped his hand from Liddy’s wrist and stepped back, assessing her. “I want to talk about your text. You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

  “Because I’m working!”

  “I called you seconds after receiving it.”

  Liddy raised a hand. “Please. I-I really can’t do this now. We’re really busy in there.” She glanced nervously toward the hotel’s massive sliding doors.

  Beau closed the space between them, his breath landing on her cheeks. “Then when?”

  He smelled amazing. Like cedar and cardamom. She could hardly pull herself away, and yet a part of her didn’t care to hear whatever it was he had to say. She’d been lied to before, why give him—or any other man—even an inch toward doing that again?

  “I don’t know.”

  He blew out a sound laced with exasperation and melancholy. She was making it hard on him. She knew this. Deep down, she did not—could not—believe that Beau would purposely lie to her.

  But he had.

  Or at the very least, had led her to believe they were exclusive, yet had spent what looked like some intimate time with another woman.

  She wanted to slap him.

  Instead, she speared him with a look. “Is it true? Was she leaning on your shoulder?”

  His mouth op
ened, but no words came out. Beau’s face was still inches from hers, but he tore his gaze away. “Who told you that?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes found hers again. “It wasn’t like that,” he finally said. “I know what it must have looked like, but she was just happy for my advice.”

  The thought made Liddy ache. Till now, Beau had been good for her—sweet, kind … sexy. Every fiber of her wanted him, and wanted to believe that this was all some sort of stupid hiccup that a couple of deep breaths would wash away. They’d laugh about it later, maybe even over a glass of wine by one of the hotel fire pits.

  But truthfully, she had sensed a subtle change in Beau lately, as if he had been analyzing her, watching for signs of, well, weakness, maybe. Maybe that’s why he so easily accepted Wendy’s invitation last night.

  “Forgive me,” he said, as if he could read her inner conflict.

  Her voice was a whisper. “What would you do if I told you I had been … if I had been feeling dizzy lately?”

  He gave her a quizzical, tentative smile. “I don’t understand.”

  She grew bolder. “What if I said I was worried that I don’t feel as well as I should in this stage of my healing?”

  She noticed the way he pulled back physically as realization washed over him. His eyes began searching her face, and he swallowed back whatever words had suddenly come to his mind.

  Slowly, but with steely deliberation, Liddy pulled herself away from his embrace. She blinked hard at the puddles building in her eyes and nodded with finality. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I haven’t said anything.”

  “You don’t have to, Beau. Your silence says enough.”

  He reached out to her. “Liddy.”

  No doubt she would have a ton of explaining to do when she finally returned to her post at the concierge desk, but at this moment she didn’t care. This needed to be said.

  She kept herself away from his reach, and her voice low. “Really, I don’t blame you for seeking comfort somewhere else, Beau. If I were you, I’m not sure if I’d be able to handle a relationship with me either.”

  Beau’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. At all.”

  “No? Are you sure about that? You said last night that you were working, but ended up strolling the pier with Wendy—”

  “We weren’t strolling the pier—”

  “And when I told you how I’ve been feeling lately, you nearly fainted.”

  Beau raked a hand through his hair. “You have got to be kidding … Liddy, promise me we can sit down and talk this out tonight. Will you do that?”

  Liddy’s lungs tightened, the very breaking of her heart keeping her from breathing. She wanted this to go away, but how could it? She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Beau, but I can’t. I don’t want to walk on eggshells around you anymore. I think … I think we need to … take a break.”

  * * *

  “Where’ve you been?” Trace asked, a bead of sweat on her forehead.

  Liddy stashed her purse inside a drawer, steadying herself as she did. “Terribly sorry. Got caught up on a … on a call.”

  “Well, thankfully you’re here now. These writers are driving me crazy! They’re party animals, every one of them.”

  Despite the clump of tears that could unravel at any moment, Liddy smiled at her co-worker’s description of the creative types milling about the lobby. She blew out a determined breath. “Let me help. What needs to be done next?”

  Well, for one you could call this one back.” Trace handed her a message with a name and number. “She wants to take a group to see My Fair Lady at the Conch Theater and she’d somehow like us to finagle a way for them to meet the cast backstage. She specifically requested that the playwright be there.”

  “The dead one?”

  Trace gasped and pointed at her. “That’s what I said!”

  Liddy nodded, thankful for the distraction. “I’ll call her right now.”

  “And after that, would you want to make sure that the bell desk is sending people over here for reservations? You know how those guys like to horn in on our commissions! I’d like to give that Hannah a piece of my mind …”

  “Gladly.”

  “You’re the best. Now I’ll just sit here and wade through this stack of requests while Lilly and Pat—wherever they went—handle walk-ups.”

  Liddy arrived home later than usual. She was supposed to leave at seven, but a flurry of last-minute restaurant reservations and Uber calls kept her there until nearly eight. The medicine flowing through her veins had made her exceptionally tired—she had taken a pill sans water during one extremely brief lull in the afternoon. So she planned to eat, take a shower, and go to sleep. If she did all that without breaking down, Liddy could say she had accomplished something extraordinary today.

  Her cell phone rang, and the big knot in her throat grew with every ring.

  “I need to talk to you!” Meg said when Liddy answered the phone.

  “About?”

  “I was at Sally’s desk today, giving her my travel schedule for the next three months when I heard a brouhaha brewing between Jackson and his sister. Suddenly the door opened and she marched out and glared at me, wanting to know where I was planning to fly off to and when.”

  Liddy curled her lip. “Really.”

  “I wouldn’t let her scare me, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “But Sally’s scared to death of her, so she handed over my itinerary and I swear that woman turned three shades of red.”

  “I’m wondering … do you think the inn’s in trouble? Financially, I mean.”

  “I don’t really think so. I’m privy to the sales budget and it was increased this year. We always hit our numbers—even if it takes a bit of travel from yours truly to do it.”

  “A bit.”

  “Come on, I’m not gone all the time.”

  “But a lot. Not that your work doesn’t pay for itself, but I need you to be around more.” Liddy sniffled, wishing she could keep her emotions in check.

  “Oh, Liddy. Oh, no. I’m so sorry … I got so caught up in my story that I haven’t asked what happened when you talked to Beau about …”

  “The woman?”

  “You did clear all that up, right?”

  “I did.”

  “As in …?”

  “We … we’re taking a break.” Her voice cracked, sending forth the flood of tears she had been holding at bay for hours.

  “I’ll be right there,” Meg said, and clicked off the line.

  Fifteen minutes later Meg showed up with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and her own tear-streaked face. She threw her arms around Liddy. “This sucks, Lid.”

  Liddy stepped back and shook her head. “It’s fine … I’m fine.”

  “Bull. Here.” She thrust the pint into Liddy’s hands, then dug something out of her pocket. “Spoons.”

  Liddy released a ragged sigh. “You think of everything.”

  They sat on the couch, surrounded by pillows and blankets and the remnants of quick work of that ice cream.

  Meg approached Liddy tentatively. “I can understand not fully trusting men right now. Shoot, I’m still open to keying your jerk ex-husband’s car. You name the time.” Her voice softened even more. “But Beau.”

  But Beau.

  “He did say that this was some kind of misunderstanding, right?”

  She nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “I’m not suggesting that you let someone lie to you again … but why not let him tell you everything? I couldn’t see him all that well from my perch, but from his body language I could tell he wasn’t in to her. There was a lot of space between them.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. This was going to happen sooner or later, so why not now?”

  “And you think that why?”

  Liddy looked away.

  “Wait a
second. It’s you, isn’t it? You wanted this breakup.”

  “‘Wanted’ isn’t exactly the right term.”

  “But it was your idea—and for more than the Beau and Wendy show from last night. Why?”

  Liddy huffed a sigh. She flipped a sober look at Meg. “I’ve been dizzy lately.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve had this weird pressure in my head lately, even a few headaches. And the other day at the store, the place began to spin and I had to grab onto a shelf for support.” Liddy bit her lip. “Scared me.”

  “So you think … it’s back?”

  Liddy threw aside the blanket covering her legs and stood up. She pressed a hand to her head. “No idea. Whenever I feel something strange coming on, I pop a pill. I still have plenty left over from before the surgery.” She didn’t mention that she had recently refilled the prescription.

  “What does the doctor say?”

  “Again, no idea. I’m supposed to have an MRI, but the hospital has rescheduled my appointment twice.”

  “Are you seriously going to tell me you haven’t seen a doctor? What’s wrong with you?”

  Liddy put her hand on one hip and her mouth dropped open.

  Meg raised a palm. “And wait, wait, wait … what does all this have to do with …? Oh. I see, I see. You think Beau’s going to hear about this and bolt.”

  “Doesn’t really matter what I think. I’ve been afraid to tell him about any of this for fear of shaking him up, but he suspected something anyway.” She crossed her arms, her voice turning to a harsh whisper. “It’s just … it hurts so much. I had no idea how deeply I’d fallen …”

  Meg rushed toward Liddy and pulled her into a bear hug, which wasn’t easy to do considering their differing heights.

  “Listen to me. You have to stop jumping to conclusions—about your health and about Beau. This is likely just some kind of residual effect from your surgery. And don’t forget—it hasn’t been all that long since you experienced a trauma of a different kind. Liddy, if the roles were reversed, I don’t think I could’ve handled it with the type of gusto that you’ve shown.”

  “Not true.”