Second Chances

by Bria Marche

  After Melanie got home and they headed off, they arrived in Beaufort at five thirty. They pulled into a downtown parking lot so they wouldn’t have to feed the meter every hour. They strolled Bay Street, checking out all the shops and galleries. Abby bought a Beaufort refrigerator magnet to add to the collection she had started as a child when her family traveled extensively.

  At Petrie’s, they chose to dine on the outdoor deck facing the river. They were given the last available table since four couples and two families were seated outside, filling the close, intimate space. Each group struck up conversations with the other, another aspect Abby found charming about the South. People were friendly and engaging. The current conversation revolved around an older couple who were spending the weekend in Beaufort for their fortieth wedding anniversary. They were clearly in love and enjoying the limelight. The waitress brought a small chocolate cake lit with two candles, a bottle of Cabernet, and two wine glasses after their dinner. The cluster of diners around them clapped as they blew out the candles and embraced.

  Wow, you can’t get much sweeter than that, Abby thought as she joined everyone else in congratulating the happy couple. “I love Beaufort. Are you locals?” Abby asked after the three women settled in and ordered their dinner and drinks.

  “We love it, too, and come here every year for our anniversary, but no, we live in Orangeburg, about an hour and a half away. Have you heard of it?”

  Abby choked on her wine, wiping the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes with her linen napkin. “Sorry, I swallowed wrong.”

  “Are you all right, dear? Maybe you need a drink of water.”

  Abby coughed a few times before she could speak clearly. Melanie and Betsy shot concerned glances her way. “No, I’m fine, really. Actually, we traveled about the same distance, but from Charleston, and yes, I am familiar with Orangeburg, even though I’ve never been there. A friend of mine comes from Orangeburg. That’s where his family lives.”

  “Really? It’s a small town, about the same size as Beaufort. We know everyone since we’ve lived there forever. What’s your friend’s name?”

  Abby felt she’d said too much, and a red blush coated her face, but she had to answer their question. “Oh… his name is Erik Christiansen.”

  The couple laughed, then the wife responded, “I’m sorry, we’re Bob and Lynn Madison. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, and it’s just so crazy what a small world it really is.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Rose and Tom Christiansen live just a block down the street from us. Rose and I play bridge every week. The guys get together for horseshoes now and then. They are the nicest family in town, and a large one, too. Just this spring, Erik and his brother Dan rebuilt the wooden steps coming up to our front porch.”

  “Isn’t that nice?” Betsy chimed in as she took a sip of her wine.

  “What’s your name, dear? We have to tell Tom and Rose we ran into someone that knows Erik. What a coincidence, right?”

  “It sure is. My name is Abby, Abby Taylor, but his folks don’t know me.”

  “That’s okay. They won’t care. Any friend of their kids is a friend of theirs. You should have Erik introduce you to his family. They’re so hospitable, they’d make you feel like one of their own. They have a lot of barbecues, and the entire family shows up. They’d welcome you with open arms.”

  “They sound like great people. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Well, Bob, let’s burn these calories off. I think it’s time for a stroll,” Lynn said as she winked at the girls. “It was so nice to meet you ladies. Have a great evening.”

  “Thank you.” Abby stood and gave Lynn and Bob an embrace. Betsy and Melanie followed suit. “Happy anniversary!”

  They watched the happy couple walk away, hand in hand, toward the riverfront.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” Abby asked, staring at Melanie as she chomped on her salad.

  “Isn’t that what you want for your life someday? You need to fix this thing with Erik. Think about it. You have no family of your own except us. It sounds like Erik’s family is large and welcoming. You’ve got a thing for him, and he’s gorgeous. What’s wrong with that picture?”

  “Nothing, other than he hates the sight of me. I met up with him the other day to tell him the truth, but I didn’t get a word in edgewise. He was too busy yelling at me. It’s hopeless.”

  “You can’t say something is hopeless with one wimpy try. You have to go after him, Abs, if he’s what you really want. Is he?”

  “I think so,” Abby replied, staring off at the marina, “but I’m afraid.”

  “That’s a lame answer. Either you want him, or you don’t. You know his address in Orangeburg, don’t you?”

  “He doesn’t live there anymore. It’s a duplex his folks own. They live on one side, and he lived on the other.”

  “And his folks moved, too?”

  “No.” Abby looked down at her plate and pouted.

  “Exactly… now grow a pair and do something about it.”

  “Won’t I seem pathetic if I chase him?”

  “No… you’ll seem like someone who’s in love. There has to be a reason, bigger than all of us, that we came here tonight and met Lynn and Bob. It’s fate, Abby. Accept it and run with it.

  ***

  Saturday night in the comfort of her bed, Abby thought about the best way to approach Erik again. Face to face didn’t work, but his hurt was still raw then. Two weeks had passed, and she hadn’t heard a word from him. I never will if I don’t make the first move. Am I willing to let this wonderful man, who had no idea I was a Melrose, slip through my fingers? He didn’t have an agenda as Remy did. Erik is honest and pure. He wanted to be with me even though he thought I was just the rental manager. Maybe a letter to break the ice is the way to go. I can follow up with a phone call or text after that. Abby checked the hallways before running down to the library in her pajamas. She pulled a pad of paper, a pen, and the book of stamps out of the top desk drawer, grabbed a glass and the corked half bottle of Cabernet from the wet bar, then headed back to her room. Erik’s business card sat on her dresser where it had been for the last month. She picked it up as she passed by. With cautious optimism, she poured a glass of wine, got comfortable on the bed, and began writing the letter. Sending it to his parents’ house, but addressed to Erik, should get it into his hands somehow.

  Four days went by, and Abby was ready to give up. She was edgy and withdrawn, convinced she was meant to be alone forever. Sitting on the patio with Lisa, Abby bit her fingernails and spit the remnants into the flowerbed. A lot was on her mind, mainly Erik Christiansen. Adam came bounding through the kitchen door and plopped down on the closest empty chair next to Abby. “Hey, guess what?”

  “What?” Lisa asked, excited to have a third party in attendance. She sat upright, hoping somebody would breathe life into the backyard boredom.

  “Guess who came into my studio today?”

  “I don’t know… the president?” she said, hoping to make Abby laugh.

  “Even better than that.” He stared at Abby, waiting for her to look up and join in with the guessing game.

  “Fine, I’ll bite. Who was it?”

  “You have to make a guess, too, then I’ll tell both of you,” he said, taunting her to try to have fun.

  “Okay… um… Reese Witherspoon.”

  “Why the hell would you say that?” he asked.

  “I read she has a home here. Just tell us already.” Abby rearranged her legs, which had fallen asleep after she’d been sitting on them for a half hour. They felt like lifeless tree limbs.

  “Erik stopped by. Cool, huh?”

  “What? Erik… as in our Erik? Why did he stop at your studio?”

  “I guess he’s remodeling a home on Atlantic Street. He’s been working there for almost a month, Abs. I thought you knew that. It’s only a block from my studio. He just wanted to say hi.”

  “I did know tha
t, but I forgot. I’m having a brain dead week. It happens to the best of us. Anyway, thanks for the 4-1-1. I’m going inside.”

  Abby took the stairs, two at a time, and dove into the bathroom once she got past the threshold of her room. With the shower running, she flipped through the clothes in her closet looking for something appropriate but sexy to wear. She didn’t want to think too hard, or she’d talk herself out of what she was about to do. Don’t overthink this. Just go with your gut, chickenshit. Like Mel said, it’s fate.

  Within fifteen minutes, she looked good enough to venture out in public. Her hair would dry in the sun on her speed walk to Atlantic Street. Abby was sure she’d know which house Erik was working on by the likelihood of a dumpster sitting along the curb. If the home was a full remodel, there would definitely be a dumpster in front of it. She walked down the block and was five houses along when she saw an enormous green steel container. Nervousness kicked in. She didn’t want Erik to think of her as a stalker, but he had to have known Adam would mention seeing him. Abby crept forward, staring at the front door and each window as she approached the house. The sound of the door opening unnerved her. She crouched down on the street side of the dumpster. She needed to muster up the nerve to bang on the front door and face him eyeball to eyeball. She needed to ease into it. The loud whack of two paint cans hitting the side of the dumpster just a few inches away made her shriek. She didn’t know that was coming.

  “What the…?” Erik stepped down from the porch after tossing the cans into the container and walked around the dumpster. “Excuse me?” he said in almost a laugh. “Abby… what the hell are you doing here?” He could only see her from behind as she crouched low, her head nearly tucked to her knees.

  She turned slowly and stood up, slapping the street dust off the palms of her hands. “Busted, right?”

  “Sort of looks that way.” He smiled with his arms crossed in front of him.

  Those damn biceps. That gorgeous face. His sexy smile. I’m toast.

  “I think you have some explaining to do, Ms. Taylor. Is this a random stalking or a planned one?”

  “Planned?” She looked at him pleadingly, hoping he would find that amusing.

  “That’s what I thought. Are you here for another tongue lashing?”

  “Depends on how it feels.”

  They both laughed.

  “You’re a fast thinker, Abby, I’ll give you that. Come on. I’m ready for a break anyway. Let’s sit on the porch and talk.”

  He reached for her hand, and she eagerly gave it. His was the hand she wanted to hold for the rest of her life. She was certain of it, and there was no going back. Abby was in love with Erik Christiansen.

  “I read your letter, and to be honest, I was going to come by this week and apologize for my behavior. I had no right to say the things I did. I’m sorry, and I feel bad for the way your life has turned out. You didn’t ask for a husband that conned you and stole all your money, and you didn’t ask for a mother that took you out of her will. You were just trying to get by and make ends meet having tenants in the house. Actually, it was a genius idea.”

  “I can thank Betsy for coming up with that one.”

  “Well, I understand everything now, even why you changed your last name. I’d have trust issues with people, too, after what you went through. I’m sure I’d do exactly what you did. How about dinner tonight? We’ll talk some more and figure this thing out between us. I’ve been staying at the Overnight Inn. I’ll clean up and swing by to get you. How about six o’clock?”

  “Six o’clock sounds wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.” She stood to walk away. He held her hand a few seconds longer, then he stood, too. Erik leaned in and kissed her lips. His kisses told her how much he’d missed her. She was hungry for his kisses, his touch, and his body making love with hers. She shuddered with lust and love for him.

  “Okay, I better get the living room painted. I’ll see you in a few hours. Abby?”

  “Yes?”

  “I really missed you.”

  She smiled then said, “I missed you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Abby casually walked to the end of Atlantic Street and turned the corner onto Meeting Street before she ran full out, just in case Erik was watching. The distance home was only six blocks, and she was a fast runner. Okay, so I’ll need another shower, but I’m too excited to care. She charged into the front door and ran through the house, ending at the back door off the kitchen. Adam, Lisa, and Betsy sat on the patio playing Go Fish. Abby plowed through the screen door, leaned over, kissed each one, took a gulp of Betsy’s iced tea, and ran back inside.

  “Would anyone care to tell me what that was about?” Betsy asked.

  “Who knows, but whatever it was, it looked good on her,” Adam said. “Now go fish.”

  Once more, Abby dove into the shower and scrubbed every inch of her body. She shaved her legs and smoothed vitamin-rich creamy lotion all over them after drying off. What the hell? She coated her entire body with the vanilla-scented cream. She dabbed Chanel on every erogenous zone she could think of. Thanks, Mom, for leaving a full bottle of Chanel behind. Lord knows I can’t afford to buy it myself. Tonight was special. She would wear something seductively sexy—but nothing over-the-top slutty. As a proper southern girl, she didn’t own the latter anyway. She browsed through her closet, looking for the above-the-knee summer sundress with spaghetti straps, a dress that would show barely a hint of cleavage. She had worn such dresses often in St. Thomas, and she had the perfect dress in mind. It had a cute boho vibe in a gypsy-like pattern with three shades of blue. This dress is perfect. It will accentuate my baby blue eyes.

  Abby sat on the veranda, waiting for the white work van to appear around the corner. Even though she would appear less anxious by waiting indoors, she was kind enough not to expect Erik to look for a parking spot just to come inside and pick her up. She craned her neck in both directions since South Battery was a two-way street. She wasn’t quite sure where the Overnight Inn was, so he could be coming down either Meeting or King Street.

  She had already passed inspection by everyone in the house, so the only person left to impress would be Erik, and she had all intentions of doing a great job. Abby felt a giddiness she had never experienced before, not even when she met Remy or brought him to Charleston to meet her mother. Erik didn’t have that well-honed charisma Remy had, but Abby also knew where that had gotten her. Erik was truthful, honest, and sincere, not to mention white-hot sexy. Abby sat on her hands while she waited, an effort to keep from chewing her fingernails off from pure excitement.

  The white van rounded the corner off King Street and headed in Abby’s direction. Yay! Here he comes! Abby jumped off the chair and headed down the sidewalk, through the gate, and out to the street. She walked toward the van. Erik got out, gave her a kiss, and opened the passenger door, helping her in.

  Six sets of eyes peered out the parlor window as the van pulled away. “That’s what I’m talking about,” Betsy said as everyone dispersed back to the kitchen. “It’s about time that girl got her happily ever after.”

  ***

  “So are you going to keep me in suspense forever?” she asked, still wondering where they were going to dine.

  “Nope, and it isn’t very far. We’re going to The Fig Tree. Is that okay?”

  “How in the world did you get a reservation? They’re usually booked weeks in advance.”

  “It helps when the house I’m remodeling belongs to the owners of the restaurant,” he said, chuckling.

  “I always knew you were a crafty guy.”

  He reached across the seat and took her left hand. He brought it to his face and kissed each finger. “I love you, Abby. Everything is going to be okay.”

  They laughed when they learned the valet would be parking Erik’s work van, but tonight, the only thing that mattered was reconnecting and going forward. Dining in one of the finest restaurants in Charleston wasn’t Erik’s norm, but he
wanted Abby to know he was capable of being much more than a common handyman. He had class and style, too.

  The restaurant was small, intimate, and beautiful. Candlelit tables sat alongside tan brick walls covered in historic black-and-white photos of Charleston. Soft music played in the background, and the wait staff was courteous and prompt. Erik started by ordering a bottle of their finest white wine. Crusty warm bread and dipping oil was placed on the table for them to enjoy before dinner.

  By night’s end, the air was cleared, and all questions were answered. Erik said he truly didn’t care that Abby was broke, and he had no agenda except to love her. “Whatever happens going forward, we will figure it out together.”

  “Thank you. That means so much to me. As long as we’re being up-front and honest, I do have something I need to say.” Abby leaned forward across the white linen tablecloth and took his hands in hers.

  “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “Well, I am honestly running a boardinghouse, you know. I guess I’m not honestly running it, since nobody except the tenants knows what I’m doing. But the point is, you and I had an agreement. You were supposed to have five months of free rent for the work you did for me. You still have several months due you. I’m not one to go back on my word. The least you could do is make me feel good and honor our contract.” She gave him an innocent smile.

  “I see. So what you’re saying is, I should check out of the Overnight Inn and move back into my old bedroom?”

  “Or mine.”

  “Uh-huh… so to honor our contract, I should move into your room?”

  “That sounds reasonable to me. Looking at it from a business perspective, I could offer your old room for rent along with Brandon’s.”

  He laughed and gave her a wide smile. His eyes twinkled. “Whatever happened to that jerk, anyway?”

  “I have no idea. The wrongful death lawsuit was denied anyway, but it was filed by a different partner. He obviously got pulled off that case. Maybe he tucked his tail and went back to Chicago.”