by Karen M Cox
Chapter 17
The next weekend, Laurel went out on Dylan’s boat with Ginny, Stuart, and her brothers. As Dylan steered past a couple of jet skis and a pontoon, a sudden shout from Stu startled her out of the pleasant lethargy brought on by the sun, the drone of the motor boat, and the wind in her face.
“Hey, Dylan, turn the boat around! It’s James.”
Laurel’s eyes popped open and she squinted in the direction Stu pointed. Another boat bobbed in the wake and Laurel’s eyes were immediately drawn toward one of the boaters, shirtless and leaning over the stern, pulling in a ski rope. He turned in response to the shout and held up his hand in greeting, a toothy smile gleaming in his tanned face. James had developed quite an outdoorsy look to him since he’d arrived, and Laurel thought it suited him. She turned her attention to the rest of the group and saw two men and a woman she didn’t recognize scattered about the boat, but it was difficult to discern their features given the distance. Laurel surmised they could only be the famous EMP think tank and found herself very curious about the people who knew more about the man James had become than she did. She was interested — but undeniably apprehensive — when Dylan indicated a small beach where they could all meet up.
They tied up at a little dock floating just a few feet from an area of dirty sand, flat enough to hold a few chairs and maybe a little hibachi grill.
“Hey, Stu, imagine meeting you here!” James came up and the two shook hands, James reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. “Hi, Virginia,” he nodded. He looked at the rest of the party. “You guys need to come over and meet the California crew.”
He led them over, and Stu whistled. “Nice boat, James.”
“Oh, it isn’t mine. I rented it for a couple of weeks. Not much use for it when it’s just me, but I thought it might come in handy while I had guests. Had to show them the best of the area, and a boat’s the best way to do it.” He turned to his friends.
“Stuart, this is Eric Harville and his wife Millie, and this is John Benwick. Guys, meet my old buddy Stuart Pendleton. This is his wife, Virginia, and her brothers, Dylan and Crosby Elliot, and her sister Laurel.”
Eric gave a small start of recognition at Laurel’s name, and cast a quick surreptitious look between her and James. Then he stepped forward and held out his hand to her. He was an average-looking guy with a pleasant aura about him. “It’s nice to meet you.” He turned to the others and shook hands with them as well. “This is quite a big crowd for just one family,” he remarked.
“We have another sister too,” Laurel replied with a serene smile, “but she’s seventeen and too cool to come out with us old folks. She went to the movies with some friends.”
“Wow, lucky you,” Eric grinned. “I have no sisters or brothers at all — except for these two bucket-heads. Millie and I think of them as the brothers we never had. She’s only got one sister.”
Millie Harville stepped forward then. “Hi, it’s so good to meet you. Any friends of James, you know, and all that. I’ll be glad to have a couple of women to talk to finally! I can only stand computer and sports talk for so long before I just wig out!” She was the classic California girl: blonde hair, perfectly straight teeth, bubbly personality, and a cute figure.
“Are you the ones with the baby?” Virginia asked, suddenly interested. “Is he with you?”
“Oh no, we got a babysitter for today.” Millie shook her head. “We couldn’t bring him out here. All this hot sun and deep water — that life jacket would have just made him miserable. And you know if he’s miserable, we’re all miserable!” She giggled. “I heard you’re expecting your first.”
“Yes.” Virginia beamed.
Millie took her arm, already forming the alliance of two women sharing the experience of new motherhood. “Have you been feeling well? Oh my gosh, I was so sick at first, but then it got better later on . . . ”
Laurel, having nothing to contribute to that conversation, turned to the last member of the party.
Of the three men, John Benwick was the most stereotypically ‘nerdy.’ Thin and pale, he wore retro-looking, horn-rimmed glasses and stood at the edge of the crowd. His hairline was starting to recede slightly, but he was far from unattractive. He was very pleasant-looking in that gentle, beta-male sort of way. He gave Laurel a cautious smile. “So you’re Laurel Elliot. James hoped we’d get to meet you while we were here.”
“He did?” Laurel was genuinely surprised. She thought James would have done his best to avoid her and make sure his friends did the same.
“He said you were an artist — a potter.”
Laurel nodded. “Guilty as charged.”
“My fiancée was an artist too. She worked in graphic design, but she painted china as a hobby.”
“Yes, I read that she passed away recently. I’m so sorry.”
A sad smile crossed his face. “Thank you. It’s not been an easy time. Fiona was a wonderful woman. The world lost an incredible person when she left it. She was Eric’s cousin; did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, I guess it’s one of the reasons the three of us have stayed close, even after the buyout.”
“I can imagine. It’s good to have friends to lean on in times like that.”
“I have a book that Fiona published: a coffee table book of her work. Would you like to see it sometime?”
“Yes, of course I would. Did she have a certain style that she preferred?”
“Her favorites were Asian designs. There’s so much Asian influence in the art on the West Coast.”
Laurel felt a prickle on her neck and turned around, only to see James eyeing her and John as they talked. When he caught her looking, he quirked his lips in a little smile and turned back to his conversation with Crosby.
“James has a lot of fond memories of this area from when he was a kid. He’s talked about it a lot over the years. That’s why Eric and I couldn’t say no when he invited us to join him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to settle down here someday.”
Laurel groaned inwardly. Watching James settle down with a wife and kids in her back pocket sounded like hell on earth to her. Unable to think of a fitting reply, she was relieved when Virginia called to her.
“Laurel, hey — come here a sec.”
“Excuse me.” Laurel smiled apologetically at John, and then went to join her sister and Millie, who had been chatting with their heads together for several minutes.
“Millie has invited all of us for supper tonight. Isn’t that nice?”
“That’s all right with you, isn’t it James?” Millie called over her shoulder.
“Is what all right with me?” he called back.
“If we all descend on your place for supper,” Virginia answered.
“I don’t know what you’ll find there to eat, but it’s fine with me otherwise,” he replied.
Millie rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “We’ll stop and get something on the way home — maybe spaghetti and salad? Oh, can you do spaghetti, Virginia? Will your stomach take it?”
“It sounds great. What time?”
“About 7:30 or so?”
“We’ll be there. Laurel, can you stop at Dad’s and pick up a couple bottles of Chianti?”
“You can get wine here? I thought it was dry.”
“Oh . . . um . . . our dad . . . ” Virginia began.
Laurel chimed in. “Dad keeps wine on hand for company. He won’t mind a bit.”
“I mean . . . I know I can’t have any,” Virginia went on, her equilibrium returning. Even after all those years, the mention of her dad’s contraband still unsettled her. “But I thought everyone else might enjoy some.”
“Sounds wonderful. I think I’ll splurge on one glass tonight, even though I’m still nursing.” She giggled again. “Speaking of Trevor, we’d better be getting back soon. You know, time to feed the little prince. If I don’t get there in time, I’ll be pretty miserable, and so will his babysitter.”
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br /> “I imagine so,” Virginia replied. “Thanks for the supper invite. We’ll get some wine and dessert together and see you around 7:30.”
“See you then.” Millie beamed. “Good to meet you, Laurel!”
The rest of the party said their good-byes and parted ways.
Laurel climbed in the boat and sank down onto the rear seat.
“I can’t believe we ran into James,” Stuart said. “What luck.”
“His friends seem okay,” Dylan ventured as he untied his boat and shoved off the dock.
“You’d never know they were all obscenely rich just by talking with them,” Crosby put in.
“Well, they haven’t always been wealthy,” Virginia said, smiling and shaking her head. “They’re people just like the rest of us.”
“It’s a shame Heather and Carrie didn’t get to meet them,” Stuart went on. “But James wanted me to be sure and bring them tonight. When we get back, I’ll tell them. They’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.”
Laurel kept her thoughts to herself because she couldn’t help feeling a little melancholy. The Harvilles and John Benwick seemed like very nice people. She wasn’t surprised that James Marshall had picked good friends for himself. It occurred to her that they might have been her friends, too, if she and James had stayed together, but then she pushed that thought out of her mind. It was entirely possible that James never would have met them if he’d stayed with her, and it was entirely possible that even if they had met, she and James might not have stayed together. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve thinking was not going to serve her well. She had to force herself to remember that.
Chapter 18
Laurel climbed out of Stu and Virginia’s SUV and looked up at James’s cabin, conflicting thoughts volleying back and forth in her head. Spending the evening at his house would be awkward, but at least he seemed to be trying distant civility this time rather than ignoring her as he had done the last time they were forced together. He had even said nice things about her to his friends. But then again, he hadn’t wasted any time in assuring that Stu should call Heather and Carrie and invite them as well to make it, in his words, a ‘lively party.’ Obviously, her company was no longer exciting enough for him.
She made her way up the stairs, listening as Heather and Carrie’s exclamations over the virtues of the house overran every other greeting. As Laurel approached James, arms full of Chianti and store-bought cake, he gestured to the counter without a word.
“Here, let me help you with that.” John Benwick sprang forward from his spot behind the kitchen island and took the bottles from her hand.
“Thanks.” She reshuffled her load and set the cake on the counter. “I hope I didn’t mess up the icing.”
“Looks fine to me,” John said with a gentle smile. He pulled out a corkscrew and opened the wine, pouring glasses for the women and retrieving beers for the men.
“So,” Virginia asked, sipping ice water with lemon, “what do you all think of Kentucky?”
“We like it,” Millie started. “It’s different than San Francisco, that’s for sure.”
“It’s more isolated than we’re used to for one thing,” Eric chimed in. “But I can see why James would like the privacy of his little hideout.”
John turned to Laurel to explain. “We’ve had a little bit too much attention from the press lately.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Nothing too intrusive, but there’s always a picture or a blurb coming out in some gossip rag or community paper. That’s what a little money and a little fame will do. Makes it hard sometimes to know who your friends are.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It was worse after that ‘most eligible bachelor’ garbage was published last year, especially for James. Eric’s married after all, and I was as good as engaged to Fiona, but he’s had to be more careful. You wouldn’t think it, but that really hurt his social life.”
Laurel gave James a quick glance. He was preparing the impromptu feast with Millie and laughing at something she said. Her heart gave a little twist at the idea of people taking advantage of him. As she turned back, she noticed Eric Harville giving her a frank, curious stare while he bounced little Trevor on his arm. He smiled and joined them at the bar.
“Now here’s a woman who likes her privacy, John. I hear you live in a cabin up in the hills without even a phone.”
“Haven’t seen the need for one yet, but sometimes I have to admit, it would be handy. I’ve thought about it, and I’ll probably succumb to the technology beast sooner or later.”
“No computer, I suppose.”
She shook her head, smiling. “No, don’t have one of those either.”
“You’ll have to forgive us geeks. We can’t imagine living without one.”
Laurel laughed. “Well, I can’t imagine living without a potter’s wheel, and I’m pretty sure none of you has one of those.”
“And you would be right.”
“We all have our essentials, don’t we?”
“That we do — this little guy is one of mine.” He kissed the top of Trevor’s bald head. Eric looked around at the crowd gathered in his friend’s house. “I think this is going to be an interesting evening. Good food, good wine, good music, and good company — I can’t think of anything better. It was right for James to come back here.”
“Oh?” Laurel couldn’t help her gaze traveling toward the topic of their conversation.
Eric looked directly in her eyes when he spoke. “James has this restless energy about him, like he’s always looking around for something — or someone. Since we’ve been here, I haven’t seen that look. It’s like he’s come home at last.”
“The mountains and the lake have a way of doing that,” Laurel returned. Baby Trevor gurgled and smiled at her. She lifted her hand and he grasped her finger while she cooed to him.
“Do you mind?” she asked Eric, holding out her arms. “Gotta practice for the auntie thing, you know.”
“That’s my boy.” He handed the baby to her. “He likes pretty women.”
Laurel walked the baby around, talking to him and pointing out the window. The back of her neck prickled wildly, but she ignored it. She took Trevor out on the deck and settled into the big, cushioned chaise lounge, where he fell asleep on her shoulder within a minute or two. She looked around for Eric, but only saw Millie, who was busy cooking, so she sat back and relaxed, holding the baby and listening to the quiet sounds of birds and insects around her. She dozed a little herself, waking a few minutes later to the sound of male voices rising from beneath the deck.
It was Eric’s voice she heard first. “ . . . and available according to Stuart. Striking woman, great smile — don’t you think, James?” There was an unintelligible mumble, and Eric laughed. “Boy, it’s fun to watch you squirm a little bit. What do you think, John?”
“If I were in a better place, I might be interested myself. As it is, I’m not ready, so I’ll just settle for a good friend. She’s easy to talk to and seems really nice. I like your friends, James. They all seem like good people.”
The voices moved out into the yard, out of earshot. The baby stirred and Laurel went in to ask Millie if she ought to put him down in his crib.
Millie directed her to a playpen in the living room, and then Laurel joined her in the kitchen. “Mmm, the sauce smells wonderful.”
“Thanks. It’s kind of my specialty. I spent a semester in Italy and learned to make it from the family I stayed with.”
A knock at the door, followed by, “Hello? Anybody in here?” announced the arrival of Susan and Gary Murtowski.
“Hey, Susan,” Millie called, “Come on in!”
“Hello, everybody!” Gary’s voice reverberated through the house.
“Sh! Gary! You might wake the baby!” Susan elbowed him in the ribs.
“Oh, sorry,” he said in a stage whisper, while he looked around. “Where’s the menfolk?”
Millie laughed. “Outside, last I knew.”
“Well then, let me grab myself a beer and join ’em.”
Susan watched him go, shaking her head and smiling. “I brought bread,” she held up a couple of Italian loaves wrapped in plastic.
“Great, just set it” — Millie looked around — “on the bar I guess. There’s so many of us, we may have to eat buffet style tonight.”
“I told James he might need a couple more chairs in the dining room, but you know men. They never think of things like that.”
“Oh, by the way, thanks for helping him settle in and get ready for the Harville Invasion. I’m assuming you’re the one who made sure we all had clean towels and the kitchen was stocked. He said you were a big help. This is better than any hotel.”
Susan waved her off. “Oh, you’re welcome. He looked a little overwhelmed when he asked me what he’d need to have on hand for a visiting baby.” She set the bread on the counter and turned around. “Laurel! How are you, dear?”
“I’m good. How about you?”
“I so enjoyed our lunch the other day. We went to that tearoom over in Summerville, Millie, and it was marvelous. You’ll have to go sometime while you’re here.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Susan turned the wine bottle around and read the label. “Think I’ll have a glass of this.”
Laurel handed her a wine glass. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. Now, what needs doing?”
“You can probably start the water for pasta.”
“Can I do something to help?” Laurel asked.
“Hmm . . . Do you want to cut up the salad veggies?”
“Sure. Just let me wash my hands first.” She headed toward the half bath, washed up and was on her way back when the sound of Heather speaking her name startled her. It seemed opportunities for eavesdropping lurked around every corner.
“I know Virginia worries about Laurel. We all like her so much; it just seems a shame the way she wastes away up in that cabin of hers.”
