As Beautiful as the Bay

by Serenity Woods

  Mac walked slowly away from the debris, toward the pier, and Sam joined him.

  “Fred said you spent the night at Ginger’s,” Mac said as they walked onto the pier, their shoes echoing on the wooden boards.

  Sam gave him a wry glance. “Yeah.”

  Mac raised his eyebrows. Sam just did the same, and Mac laughed. “All right.”

  They walked a bit further, then stopped and leaned on the railings, looking down at the sea. The ferries were running again, but they’d put out a warning in Paihia that most of the shops in the town were closed for the day, and most tourists had obviously decided to stay away, so the pier was relatively empty.

  “You okay?” Mac said.

  Sam scratched at a mark on the railing. “Just overwhelmed, I guess.”

  “Makes sense. There’s a lot to do.”

  “Yeah. It’s great that everyone’s come to help, but to be honest it just seems so... pointless. The place is a write-off, Mac. I’m not going to be able to fix this with some number eight baling wire.”

  “Maybe not, but even if some building work needs to be done, the site still has to be cleared.”

  “Yeah, I know. My heart sinks at the thought of the process, that’s all.”

  Mac bent and picked up a stone, drew back his arm, and threw it into the ocean. “Maybe it’s time to think about a change.”

  Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been frustrated because of George’s refusal to alter anything. Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to do things differently. To modernize, update, do it the way you want to.”

  Sam leaned over. In the shallows, he could see the dark shadow of a stingray, its fins undulating slowly, sending it skimming across the sand. “You sound like Ginger.”

  “She has the same idea?”

  “She’s been suggesting it for months.”

  “And?”

  “I can’t do it, Mac.” Sam straightened and looked out to sea. “It’s going to be bad enough when I tell him how badly the bakery has been damaged. Can you imagine what Dad will say if I then announce I’m going to change everything? It’ll destroy him.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. He should be grateful that you came back. You could have stayed on the ship, and he would have had to sell.”

  “He doesn’t see it like that. He would never have forgiven me if I hadn’t come back. He sees it as my duty to carry on the family business. I don’t think he ever considered that I might not want to do it.”

  “The thing is, it’s your business now,” Mac said. “You’ve just won the Gold Food Award almost without lifting a finger.”

  “Cheers,” Sam said wryly, thinking of all the mornings he rose at four o’clock to prepare the bread. But he knew Mac was right. Ginger had been right to be angry at him for entering when he had no real desire to win. He’d won because the locals liked the fact that George’s son had taken over a business that had been there since the founding of the town. They’d voted for it because of its history and because he was friendly and made them laugh when they came into the shop. He’d done nothing innovative or outstanding, unlike Ginger, who’d worked so hard inventing new dishes and had completely changed the restaurant from what it had been before.

  He felt a sharp desire to just walk away, to return to Auckland, climb on board one of the ships, and head back out to sea, where he had no responsibilities and nothing to worry about except himself.

  Then he thought of Ginger, and remembered the way he’d felt that morning, when she’d asked him if he wanted a casual relationship. She’d offered it to him, and he’d said no. He could still feel that unusual pang when he’d thought about her being free to see other men. Sam Pankhurst, jealous? Alyssa would have laughed in his face. And yet he couldn’t deny the possessiveness he’d felt when he’d had Ginger in his arms.

  If he walked away now, it meant leaving her, and abandoning the seed of the relationship that had barely even touched the soil. If he stayed, he’d get the chance to see what it grew into. It could be something warm and welcoming, something sexy and yet also secure, the promise of family and love to keep him happy forever.

  It would also mean constriction, pressure, and responsibility. With the bakery destroyed, this was his chance to tell his father he was leaving.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Mac warned as if reading his mind.

  Sam blinked and focused on his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Mac pushed off the railing and faced him. “Ginger must have told you what she went through in the U.K.”

  “She did.”

  “She’s been through hell, Sam. They all have. Don’t fuck her around.”

  Anger flared inside him. “I’m not going to.” But wasn’t that what he was just thinking? About walking off and abandoning what they might have had?

  “You’ve always had a wanderlust,” Mac said. “Right from when we were young. It was always you who wanted to go out on the boat further than the rest of us. Who wanted to sail until you couldn’t see land, while I hung over the side throwing up. I can see that glint in your eye now—you want to leave.”

  “I don’t,” Sam protested, even though his feet were telling him to walk away.

  “If that’s what you want, then do it soon,” Mac said. “Before you both fall in love. Because otherwise you’ll end up breaking her heart and, mate, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for that.”

  Shocked at his friend’s words, Sam just nodded. Mac turned and shadowed his eyes, looking toward the bakery. “Come on. We have an hour or two of daylight left. Let’s get done as much as we can, while everyone’s still around.”

  He walked away, along the pier. Sam followed him, a few paces behind.

  He knew Mac was right. His heart wasn’t in the bakery. He’d known that even before he came back. He’d done it for his father, but had only made himself miserable. His heart was in the crafting of individual fine pastries and cakes, not in making a hundred loaves that all looked the same. Here he wasn’t challenged—he was bored. And if he stayed doing the same thing, he’d end up resenting the bakery, the town, and maybe even Ginger, if they tried to make a go of it.

  He thought about her, about how he’d made love to her that morning, up against the window, the sunlight catching the coppery tints in her hair. Her face had flushed and her lips had parted as she’d come, and at that moment he’d known that one night wasn’t going to be enough. He’d wanted her for months, and he’d thought that once he had her, his obsession would be over. But as he remembered the way her lips curved when she teased him, how her soft breasts felt in his palms, he hungered for her, and he wanted her no less fervently than he had since the first time he’d met her.

  Mac disappeared into the bakery, but Sam stopped and looked out across Blue Penguin Bay. He should clean up the site and then sell it, and return to the job he’d loved. His father would just have to deal with it.

  If that’s what you want, then do it soon, Mac had said, Before you both fall in love.

  The sea looked so cold, he thought. But summer was on its way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They worked all day until the light faded. By then, they were all exhausted.

  “Why don’t you come up to the vineyard,” Fred said to Ginger and Sam. “We’ll grab some fish and chips on the way, and we’ll have a glass of wine and chill out for a while.”

  Ginger waited for him to reply, not sure what to say. He couldn’t stay in his own house that night as the whole place was still damp and the dryers were running. She wanted to ask him to stay with her, but knew he needed to see his father, and besides, she wasn’t sure yet if the night they’d spent together meant anything.

  “Sure,” he said, “sounds great.” He looked at Ginger. “Want a lift up?”

  She nodded. Did that mean he was coming home with her afterward? Her heart picked up speed. She was determined not to push him, but then again he’d said, I don’t have much expe
rience at going steady, which implied to her he was interested in seeing her again. And he didn’t want a casual relationship—he’d made that quite clear.

  Well there was no rush. She was willing to wait and see how things played out.

  They all headed out of the bakery, and Sam spent a few minutes saying thank you to Piri, Jace, and the other helpers, before he and Ginger walked to his car. Fred, Mac, and Sandi had already left to get the fish and chips, and they were going to meet them up at the vineyard.

  The sun sat low on the horizon, and the sky was the color of plums and cherries. “I can’t believe we had such torrential rain,” she said as they crossed the car park to his car. “Maybe there just isn’t any water left in the clouds anymore because it all fell last night.”

  “I know what you mean.” He pressed the button on his key fob, opened the car, and they got in. “I feel like I dreamed it.”

  They clipped their seatbelts in, and Sam started the car. He headed off up the hill, leaving the seafront behind.

  Ginger looked out at Blue Penguin Bay as the car climbed. It didn’t seem right that the view could be so beautiful after the destruction that nature had wrought.

  “You okay?” Sam asked. “You look sad.”

  “Just thinking about all the damage. It’s so unfair, isn’t it? How some of the shops were touched and others weren’t. I’m sorry you were so unlucky.”

  “It was chance, not luck,” he said.

  “Interesting distinction.”

  “The tree that fell across the river could easily have diverted it a hundred yards to the east. Luck implies that someone had a hand in it, that I and the other people who suffered are ‘unlucky’ and are being punished. I don’t believe that.”

  “No, neither do I,” she admitted.

  He glanced at her, then he returned his gaze to the road and reached out a hand. She slid hers into it. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers.

  “Do you want to come back with me tonight?” she asked.

  He glanced at her again. “Do you want me to?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “You don’t have to. If you’d rather stay at the B&B with your dad, I’m sure Sandi can put you up, or maybe Jace—”

  “I’d rather stay with you,” he said.

  Her face grew hot. “Okay.”

  He didn’t say anything else. She looked out of the window, waiting for her pulse to slow down and the heat to fade from her cheeks.

  She shifted in the seat, and her leg knocked against something. Bending, she picked it up. It was the trophy he’d won for the Gold Food Award.

  “At least this is safe,” she said.

  He glanced at it. “For what it’s worth.”

  “Sam, you won this fair and square. You should be proud of it.”

  “Well, I’m not. If you want it, you can have it.”

  She gave him an exasperated look and put the trophy back on the floor. “For God’s sake.”

  “I thought you wanted the trophy?”

  “I wanted to win the competition. I didn’t just want the trophy. Don’t be an idiot.”

  He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

  Her irritation faded away as she saw the deep lines around his eyes and mouth. The poor guy was shattered—he’d had an awful day. “It’s okay. But why aren’t you proud of it?”

  “I didn’t deserve to win it. We both know that. My heart’s not in the bakery, it never has been. I came back for my father’s sake. Part of me wishes I’d just stayed on the ship.” His arms were straight where he held the wheel, his jaw set.

  Ginger studied her hands in her lap. If he hadn’t come back to Blue Penguin Bay, they wouldn’t have met. He might not have meant that—he was thinking about the bakery—but she could sense the undercurrent. He wished he wasn’t tied down by his responsibilities. Whatever he’d said about not wanting a casual relationship, he obviously missed being free.

  They didn’t say anything else, and minutes later they pulled into the large gravel drive leading up to the vineyard. Sam parked out the front, and they got out and walked tiredly around the restaurant building to the long deck. Mac and the others weren’t back yet, but Scully, his German Shepherd, came running up to meet them. George sat in one of the comfortable chairs there, watching them as they walked up.

  “Hey,” Ginger said hello to Scully, then walked up to George and bent to kiss his cheek.

  “Hello, dear.” He smiled, but his gaze was on his son as he bent to fuss the dog. “How are things?”

  “It’s been a long day,” she said. “Mac and the others are bringing some fish and chips. I’ll go and get some plates.” She left Sam to tell his father the news, and went into the kitchen.

  They’d closed it for the day, so the worktops were empty and pristine, the ovens cold. She walked around it, running her fingertips over the counters, her throat tightening as she thought of how excited she’d been before she left for the awards. She’d hoped to come back bearing the trophy. She’d even planned where she would place it—on the bar in the restaurant, so all the customers could see it. How fucking arrogant she’d been.

  But she wasn’t going to spiral down now. Sam had been right when he’d said she needed time to build up her reputation. He’d given her a lot of good advice about suggesting ideas to the community gradually. He’d called her ‘an exceptional businesswoman, and a great chef.’ Yes, she’d been arrogant, but she was also able to accept her faults, and she was going to try to put things right.

  She retrieved six plates, knives, and forks from the kitchen, and took them into the restaurant, laying them out on one of the circular tables. Next to each place setting, she placed a wineglass, and she put a basket of condiments in the middle.

  She could hear Sam and George talking outside, snippets of their conversation filtering in with the cool evening air. “What about the shop?” George said, his voice hoarse.

  “It’s all ruined, Dad,” Sam replied. “Hardly any of it is salvageable.”

  “It’s all gone?”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Ginger glanced at them. Sam was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, looking at the floor. George sat slumped in his chair. Even from across the room, Ginger could see the tears rolling down his face.

  She turned away hastily and walked back into the kitchen. There, she leaned against the counter and looked out of the window, across the darkening vineyard.

  Would she have been the same as Sam if she’d been in his position? Would she have held back from making changes to the bakery so that she didn’t upset her father?

  It was difficult to put herself in Sam’s shoes. Her father had left England when she was three, so the only memories of him she had were fleeting images which she wasn’t entirely certain weren’t gleaned from family photographs. If her mother had put that kind of pressure on her, Ginger wasn’t sure how she would have reacted. Louise Cartwright had suffered from bipolar disorder, and Fred had stayed at home to look after her so that Sandi and Ginger could both go to university. Louise hadn’t seemed to care what her daughters got up to—her focus had always been on herself, Ginger thought, right up until the moment she’d taken her own life. So Ginger had never felt the need to rebel as such. She’d always been able to do whatever she wanted. It had only been in the past year that she’d realized what a sacrifice Fred had made to enable her sisters to live their lives.

  When they’d first come to New Zealand, they’d agreed that all three of them would have to want to stay to make it work. So what if Fred and Sandi had wanted to stay, but Ginger had missed England? Would she have forced her sisters to return just so she got her own way?

  Of course she wouldn’t have. After what Fred had done for her and Sandi, she would have done whatever she could to make her happy. And that’s all that Sam was doing for his father. When Sam’s mother had died, George had brou
ght Sam and his brother up, probably making sacrifices of his own to give them a good school and enable them to go to university, and this was Sam’s way of saying thank you. He could no more have forced George to sell the family business then flown using just his arms.

  But what would happen now that the bakery probably needed to be rebuilt? Would George let Sam make some changes and bring the business into the twenty-first century? Or would he continue to hang onto the old ways?

  In the restaurant, voices signaled the return of the others with the fish and chips. Ginger retrieved a bottle of Sauvignon from the fridge and a Merlot from the rack in the kitchen and took them through. Ultimately, what happened with the bakery was none of her business. All she could do was be there for Sam, and support him with whatever decision he made. She just hoped that whatever he ended up doing made him happy.

  Fred was giving George a hug, while Sandi and Mac unwrapped the fish and chips on the table. Ginger glanced at Sam as she came in. The corner of his mouth curved up, and she walked over to him and slid her arms around his waist. “I’m glad you’re here,” she murmured.

  “Me too.” He hugged her before releasing her.

  Sandi caught her eye and raised her eyebrows. Ginger poked her tongue out at her. When she eventually got on her own with her sisters, she was in for some serious questioning.

  Fred brought George in, and they all sat around the table and dished out the hoki and chips. Mac opened the wine and poured everyone a glass, and soon they were all eating and drinking.

  They steered away from discussing the bakery, and instead talked about the rugby test currently taking place, the general election coming up soon, and the plans Mac and Fred had for the vineyard. Everyone except Sam, who would be driving back to town, had another glass of wine, and when they’d finished eating, they remained at the table, talking.

  Eventually, though, they finished the wine, and when Mac asked whether he should open another bottle, Ginger yawned and shook her head. “I’d better get home. We should open the restaurant tomorrow.”