Frank nodded, eyes averted. “He was here earlier today, left it parked there.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder and back. “He wanted to borrow my bike.”
Ash tried to picture Eddie on a ten-speed and couldn’t. “Sorry?”
“My Harley. I bought it off a guy last year. Eddie’s been messing around with it, wanted to take it for a ride.”
“Oh.” She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Frank raised his eyes, but the look of pity inside them almost knocked Ash to the pavement. “Honey, I’m sorry. He met Cass here around three-thirty. The two of ‘em have been gone ever since.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Cass clutched Eddie around the waist, leaning in close when he took the curve too fast. She shrieked something into his ear, but he couldn’t make out the words. Nor did he really want to. When he’d seen her at the convenience store a few hours earlier, she had taken one look at him and known. Black moods and stormy temperaments, Cass could read like an open book. It was the subtleties within a relationship she’d never really gotten. Without saying a word, though, she’d pulled a six-pack of his favorite beer from the cooler and followed him to Frank’s. Fifteen minutes later, they were on the bike.
As long as he didn’t think too much about it, Eddie was content to ride, as fast as he could. As far as he could. Anything to get away from Paradise. Anything to forget about the woman who had lied her way into his life and then cleaved his heart straight down the middle.
“Cromer’s Corners 2 miles” read the sign at the intersection. He slowed for the blinking red light. A right turn took them winding back toward Paradise, a left, nothing but farmland for twenty more miles. Straight ahead lay one of the state’s most historic towns, dotted with landmarks, restaurants, and gift shops. With its connection to the Civil War, it remained one of New Hampshire’s biggest tourist draws. Eddie gunned the engine and took off again. A few raindrops splattered down his chest and onto his legs.
They could get something to eat and wait out the rain. If he remembered right, there was a local place downtown with fat burgers and endless drafts of beer. That might soothe his anger. Or at least chase it away for a while.
* * *
“Finally.” Cass climbed off the bike and strolled into the pub. “God, just in time. I was getting wet.” She ran both hands down her chest, smoothing her flimsy tank top over a bra that didn’t hide a damn thing. “Nice ride.” She looked at him through full lashes.
“Yeah.” Eddie found a couple of stools at the end of the bar and pulled them up. “Two tall ones,” he told the bartender, opening his wallet.
Cass took her time easing onto the stool beside Eddie, turning the heads of the three other guys at the bar. She wore slim jeans that hugged her hips and slid down just enough in the back to reveal the top of a bright pink thong.
The bartender glanced from her to Eddie and back again. Grunting what Eddie supposed was an approval, he filled two mugs and slid them over. “On the house.”
“Bullshit.” Eddie tucked a five into the guy’s tip jar.
The bartender shrugged. “Suit yourself. But it’s ladies’ night, two for one.”
Eddie didn’t respond. He ran a quick hand over his hair. What the hell had happened to him today? How had he managed to wake up next to a woman he thought he was falling for and end up hours later sitting next to his ex-girlfriend?
He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. The fury of finding out that he’d just opened his soul to someone who was a shadow, a pretend version, a liar, a fake, ate away at his guts. He wanted to puke.
Cass’s warm hand crept onto Eddie’s knee and stayed there. “How about a shot?” she whispered into his ear. “For old time's sake?”
He shrugged. “Sure.” What else did he have to do tonight but get rip-roaring drunk? “Tequila. And two cheeseburgers,” he told the bartender. “One with the works. One with ketchup only.”
Cass smiled sideways at him. “You remembered.” Her hand slid up Eddie’s leg. Of course he remembered. He remembered every damn thing. That was the problem.
* * *
Ash lay face down on her bed, listening to Paradise’s only jazz station. She should have told Marty she’d take an extra shift. Or she should have stopped down there anyway, had a beer, and listened to J.T.’s stupid jokes. Anything to get out of the house. Anything to keep her mind off what had happened that morning.
Instead she’d eaten cold pizza around seven and crawled into bed. She’d pulled the blinds down tight, not wanting a sliver of light to sneak in and brighten her mood. Now the room pressed down with heavy, unpleasant humidity. She tried to take a breath and tasted stale cotton. Tucking rumpled blankets around her shoulders, she turned to face the wall. The blues rolled over her, thick as murky midnight, and she gave in to tears.
Cass. He went to Cass. She couldn’t stop replaying Frank’s words and the awful, pitying expression on the man’s face. Worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie’s ex-girlfriend, with the red hair and the tight clothes and the come-hither look she didn’t bother to hide.
He dated her once. It only made sense that he’d go back to her. What guy wouldn’t want a woman who looked like that? She drew a forearm across her face and told herself to stop crying.
“…and that was Miles Davis, with his classic rendition of ‘Bye Bye Blackbird,’” the DJ said. “To all you lonely lovers out there, this next one’s for you…”
Ash looked at the clock. Ten minutes to twelve. She shut off the radio and listened. Nothing but silence from the apartment below. No music patterning the floor with vibrations. No kitten paws racing around the hardwood. No laughter. No voices. Nothing at all.
She fell back against the pillows. “Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe Colin’s right. Maybe there really is nothing here for me.”
What was the point in staying? She supposed part of her had always known that she’d have to go back to Boston. She just didn’t think it would be this soon. Well, tomorrow she'd give Marty two weeks’ notice. That should give him enough time to find another night manager. By then, the summer would be almost over, and they could sublet her apartment to someone else. If she told Helen she’d be out by mid-August, maybe the landlord could rent to a college student. Ash rolled over and tried to slow her breath, to still her heartbeat, to find a rhythm that would carry her toward sleep. And she tried not to think of all the things she’d miss when she said goodbye.
* * *
“Shit.” Eddie stumbled off his barstool and spilled a bowl of peanuts onto the floor.
Cass leaned against him. Her perfume wafted up and reminded him of other days, earlier days, when he’d breathed in that scent and wanted more, always more, of it. “You can’t drive home.”
“No kidding.” Double-shit. He hadn’t meant to get so slobbering drunk. He’d just wanted a few shots, some beers to chase them down, something to mellow him out so he could forget Ashley Kirtland. Or Ashton Kirk. Or whatever the hell her name really was.
“There’s a motel next block over,” offered the bartender. “I can call you a cab.”
Cass wound her arm through Eddie’s and tugged him toward the door. “The motel’ll be fine,” she said over her shoulder. “We can walk.”
Outside, the air felt good as Eddie drew it into his lungs. Fresh. Clean. Forgiving. Everything he wasn’t. The rain had stopped, though puddles still dotted the pavement. He lifted the two helmets off the back of Frank’s bike.
“I gotta text Frank, tell him I’ll get the Harley back tomorrow.”
Cass pressed her hand against his. “You already did. About an hour ago.”
“Really?” Eddie rubbed his forehead and tried to remember. He pulled out his cell phone and checked. “Oh. Yeah.”
“There’s the motel.” Cass pointed across the street.
A few hundred yards away, Eddie could make out the blur of a neon sign. “Vacancy,” he read. “We’ll get two rooms
.”
The redhead put one hand on a hip. “Like hell we will.” She snuggled herself under his arm. “You need some comforting, Eddie West. I don’t know who broke your heart, or how she did it, but tonight you need some grade-A ex-girlfriend lovin’, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna give you.” She slipped a hand inside his back pocket.
Eddie didn’t answer, just started to walk. What he really needed was a soft bed and about a thousand hours of sleep. Then, in the morning, he’d let some greasy home fries ease his hangover while he went about shoveling the pieces of his heart under the carpet. He glanced over. But hey, if a woman like Cassandra Perkins wanted to keep herself warm beside him in the meantime, he wasn’t sure he had any objections.
Not tonight, anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Consciousness came slowly, working its way into Ash’s bedroom on leaden feet.
I’m still in Paradise, she thought after a minute of staring at the ceiling. For now, anyway. A blink at the clock and a long swig of water reminded her of last night’s decision. She’d give Blues and Booze two more weeks. But no more.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Though nearly nine, no light came through her blinds. She padded across the room and peered outside. Rain spit against her windows, not heavy, just steady.
“Great. Another stupid, gray day.” Just what she needed to match her mood. Ash headed for the bathroom, glad she’d taken a lunch shift to fill up the empty afternoon. I’ll tell Marty when I get there. She eased her way under the shower’s hot spray. No reason to call him earlier. He’d throw enough of a fit as it was.
She felt more than a little guilty about leaving Blues and Booze, especially since she’d been running the place a couple nights a week, but what was she supposed to do?
This place has nothing to offer you…
“Dad’s right,” she said aloud. The sooner she went back to Boston and faced down her demons, the better. She had a degree from one of the top law schools in the country. She knew of a half-dozen firms in the city who’d give their eyeteeth to hire a Harvard grad, especially one with the last name Kirk. She’d have no problem working herself back into that way of life. And if her father and her family needed her, then it was about time she stopped acting like a spoiled child with her heart broken. She was twenty-six, not sixteen. She needed to get it together and go to Martha’s Vineyard. What’s the worst that can happen?
Ash turned off the shower in time to hear her phone ring.
Eddie. The thought that it might be him shot adrenaline straight into her soul. He’s calling to talk. He wants to make up. It wasn't too late after all. She wrapped a towel around her head and grabbed her robe. All thoughts of Boston and her father and the Vineyard fled. Still wet, she skated into the living room.
But her voicemail picked up before she could answer, and as soon as hope had lifted inside her heart, it was gone again. She pressed the button to listen to the message, but one look at the screen told her who had called.
“Ash? Marty here.”
She sank onto the loveseat and rested her head on one palm. Of course it wasn’t Eddie. Look what she’d done by lying to him. Look at everything she’d ruined.
“Got something to ask you.” Marty hacked up phlegm for a few seconds before continuing. “And, ah, I know you’re coming in to work lunch today, but I’ve got a meeting down in the city.”
The city? As in Boston? Marty rarely left Paradise, as far as Ash knew, though he’d been gone a lot of nights this summer. What was the guy up to? Got a woman? She couldn’t imagine it. Gambling addiction?
“…so could you give me a call when you can?”
Ash erased the message. She might as well get it over with. He probably wanted her to cover as manager tonight, or maybe pull a double tomorrow. She'd call and find out for sure and tell him about her leaving at the same time. He wouldn’t like it, but—
Marty picked up on the first ring. “Ash?”
“Hi. Got your message.”
“Ah, hey there.” He coughed.
“Oughta get those lungs looked at,” she said almost without thinking. She knew he wouldn’t listen; she told him the same thing two or three times a week. It wasn’t like you could change the habits of a chronic smoker. The things people carried around for a lifetime worked their claws inside the skin and stayed there.
“So what's up?”
“Ash, listen. I’m gonna need someone up here full-time to run the restaurant. I'm thinking about opening another place down near Salem. Cater to the college crowd.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I've been talking to a buddy of mine these last few weeks. He’s got the dough, likes my ideas. Wants to go in partners with me.”
“Really?” Ash’s brows rose. She couldn’t picture Marty leaving Paradise, let alone opening another version of Blues and Booze. But then again, she’d never really looked past his yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes. Maybe the restaurant business had grown on him. Maybe, after all this time, he did want more. Maybe he wanted expansion, a place that drew a younger, bigger crowd. More money. More possibilities. “So wait, you’re leaving town?”
“For a while, if I can find someone to take care of the place here. I'll be spending most of my time down there, next few months, anyway. So, ah, if you’re interested, like to offer you the manager job. Full-time.” He chuckled, wheezing only a little. “Well, probably be more than full-time, ‘cause you know what the hours are like. You can hire someone to work under you, if you want. Part-time, cover the nights.”
“Marty, I can’t—”
“Don’t say no right away,” he interrupted. “I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you. But you don’t take any crap from anyone either, and that’s good.” He paused to draw a rattly breath. “I ain’t never considered opening another place ‘til this opportunity came along. And you…you’re okay. You got the hang of it. And you’re about the only person with enough brains to keep it going. So if you want to stay in town for a while, give it a shot, I’d appreciate it. Really.”
Ash didn’t say anything. Stay in Paradise? Run Blues and Booze? It was ridiculous. She couldn’t. She’d do a terrible job. Besides, she’d make what? A few thousand dollars? Barely enough to cover the rent in this second-floor apartment. No way. It made no sense.
Then why didn’t she just tell Marty thanks, but no thanks? Why didn’t she tell him she’d be gone in two weeks, back in Boston where she belonged? Why, instead, did she tell him she’d think about it?
Because, she decided as she threw on an old pair of shorts and a halter top and stepped into the rain, she had finally, and completely, lost her mind.
* * *
The rain let up shortly after Ash rounded the corner of Lycian Street, and by the time she headed downtown, past the church green, all that remained was a fuzzy sky with some sun poking through. She bent her head against the wind, shoulders hunched, and walked past the restaurant. Past the tiny yellow-sided library, where Celia Darling waved a hand as she gathered books from the return bin. Past Annie’s Fabrics and the Used Book Depot, sharing space in a corner building. At the convenience store she turned, giving a nod to the guy who stood in the doorway. Harry Broker. Came in sometimes with his teenage daughter, weekends when she visited from her mom’s.
Ash shook her head. She couldn’t keep thinking about the people she knew, the connections she’d made here in Paradise. It had been just a summer detour, a distraction, as her father had put it. A few weeks of getting to know the locals didn’t mean she belonged here, even if Marty had just offered her the perfect opportunity for staying. She dodged a baseball that rolled into the street and kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to see who it belonged to or play the matching game with another local face.
Another turn, this time onto a quiet street, thick with oak trees. St. James Avenue curved up toward the
community college, and she followed it, slowing as the hill grew steeper. Here the houses pushed together, one atop the next like postage stamps in a line. All one-level, all neatly tended, almost all brick with white or black trim and flowers on the stoop. Here and there, a flag in the window or a bronze nameplate broke the pattern. Don’t they mind? Don’t they want to look distinct? Or is there comfort in fitting in?
Ahead of her, a wrought iron gate stood open beside a sign welcoming her to New Hampshire Central Junior College. Ash wrapped her fingers around the bars and stared at the squat buildings, made of the same red brick as the houses behind her. Near the entrance stood a white building with cupolas on top and a sign that read “Admissions” in front. In the background she could see the three story library accented with flowerbeds and a stone lion statue sitting regally in front. It looked like every other local school, plopped in a tiny town, anywhere in the country.
Except it wasn’t. This one belonged to Paradise, New Hampshire. And suddenly, she heard Eddie’s voice again inside her head.
“… people have the same problems no matter where you go. Big city or small town, people get hurt. Friends steal from each other. Men cheat on their wives. Kids sneak out at night and get drunk while their parents think they’re sleeping. People get divorced, same as every other place…At least here, in Paradise, you know someone’s got your back. You know there’s always someone you can count on, someone you grew up with who’s gonna forgive you no matter how bad you screw things up…”
She turned away from the college. Two benches flanked the fence, and she dropped onto one, not caring that rainwater had puddled inside it.
Is that why she liked it? Because there was something here that made her feel like she belonged? Something that told her people would look out for her? Stand up for her? Forgive her when she screwed things up?
She ran one finger along the bench’s scrollwork.
“…I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you…”
The Promise of Paradise Page 14
