by Donna Alward
He still took his share of grief for it. People had long memories, and the milkshake incident had been a sensation. The flip-side of small-town living: everyone delighted in everyone else’s business.
He stepped out of the shower and toweled off, efficiently pulling on underwear, a pair of board shorts, and a T-shirt. He didn’t do a thing with his hair besides run his hand through it and give it a shake, sending droplets of water spattering onto the mirror. A quick application of deodorant and he was done, taking a spare five seconds to hang up his towel.
“Yo, bro. You beautiful yet? I need to take a leak.”
Aiden grinned. His slightly younger brother, Rory, must have finished work early today. The two shared the apartment, which was essentially the upstairs above the veterinary clinic. Rory got the rent cheap for being the “onsite” vet. Perks of being the newbie just out of vet school. “Something wrong with the clinic bathroom?”
“Naw.” Rory looked up as Aiden entered the kitchen. Rory was already halfway through a beer. “I’m clocked out for the day is all. Last appointment cancelled.”
“Does this mean you’re cooking?”
Rory chuckled, shouldering his way past Aiden. “I can. Unless you want to go to Mom and Dad’s.”
Aiden didn’t. News of the robbery had spread through town and he was sure his parents had heard. They’d have questions, not just about the robbery but also about Laurel. “I’d rather stay here. I can cook if you don’t want to.”
“Oooh, frozen pizza. Again.”
“I can make more than frozen pizza.” Aiden went to the fridge, considered the beer, and grabbed a soda instead. Somehow he just wasn’t in the mood.
There was silence for a second as Rory headed for the bathroom, then a loud curse. “Shit, your shorts are on the floor. Gross.”
Aiden laughed. He’d been in a hurry for the shower, but he deliberately left stuff around just to spool his brother up. Rory was such a damned neat freak. He needed to relax once in a while. The fact that he’d knocked off work was definitely unusual.
In the end, the choice for supper was taken out of his hands. One phone call and a not-so-subtle guilt trip later about how they never made time for their mother anymore, and both boys headed to the family home.
The Gallaghers lived just outside Darling, on a couple of rolling green acres dotted with tall maples and oaks. The house was huge by modern standards: only twenty years old but built in that old-fashioned colonial style so popular in New England. The front faced the dirt drive, but the back had a huge deck that overlooked the lake. Aiden sometimes wondered why his parents kept it, now that all six of the kids were up and grown. Only the twins lived at home, and even then only part of the time. It was a lot of house for two people, and so much work.
But as he and Rory drove up in Aiden’s truck, he understood. It wasn’t the kind of property—or home—that a person could turn their back on easily.
Claire’s car was in the yard, Cait’s wasn’t, and neither was their older sister Hannah’s. Ethan’s SUV was though, and Aiden could hear screams and giggles coming from the backyard as he and Rory got out of the truck.
Rory grinned. “Ethan’s here with the boys.”
The oldest child of the family, Ethan was the only one of the Gallaghers to get married, much to their mother’s dismay. Ethan was only thirty-two and already a widower, left to raise his boys on his own. As a firefighter working shift work, their parents helped out as much as they could.
“Uncle Aiden! Uncle Rory! Come play soccer with us!”
Ethan’s son Connor came running, his five-year-old legs churning and his coppery hair flopping over his forehead. His little brother Ronan toddled behind, curls bouncing, trying desperately to keep up. Aiden remembered the feeling well. He’d done his fair share of chasing after his brothers when he was little. Particularly when they didn’t want him to follow.
They followed the boys to the backyard, where a rousing game was already in progress: Connor and Gramps against Ronan and Ethan. Rory and Aiden made it three on three and the competition was on for real, along with some trash talk that was cleaned up due to the presence of the boys. Aiden had scored on his dad and was doing a victory lap of the yard when his mother, Moira, stepped outside and called everyone in for dinner.
“Wash your hands,” she commanded, as she shooed them inside, each of them easily a foot taller than she was.
“Yes, Mom,” Rory said, dropping a kiss on her cheek.
Dinner was a far cry from dry pizza. His mother had baked a ham, made whipped potatoes, vegetables, and fresh rolls. Aiden was just slicing into a fat slab of maple ham when his father, John, piped up, “Heard there was some trouble in town today. At the garden center. You know anything about that, Aiden?”
It felt like the ham in his mouth expanded as he tried to chew. He nodded as he forced a swallow. “I was on shift and answered the call. I think it was probably some teens acting out. Mostly it was just stuff smashed up.”
Moira frowned. “Poor Laurel. She just got that place up and running.”
“They only took the float.”
“But all that stock.” Claire sighed she buttered her roll. “That can’t be cheap to replace. And her sales will take a hit in the meantime.”
Claire was studying marketing in college and had a summer internship working for the town. Aiden looked at his little sister. She was growing up so fast. Today she was dressed in navy trousers and a neat little shirt with her hair up in a bun of some kind, every inch the professional.
“Yes, but it’s Darling,” Rory commented easily. “People will buy from her just to show their support.”
Ethan hadn’t said anything. He was busy trying to keep the boys’ food on their plates and in their mouths and not on the floor.
Moira eyed Aiden keenly. “So, how is she?”
He shrugged. “Upset. About what you’d expect.”
“That’s not what I meant. How does she look? I haven’t been in to see her yet. Is she as pretty as ever?”
Aiden raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t notice. I was, you know, doing my job.”
Ethan finally laughed. “Right. As if. Laurel Stone has turned your crank ever since you hit puberty.”
“I’m twenty-eight. Puberty’s a few years ago, thanks.” Aiden shoveled up some potatoes. He hated that his brother was right. He’d noticed her in sophomore year when they had math together.
Something about her had been familiar. They’d become friends, but he’d been too scared to make a move. Then, on a cold January afternoon, they’d been out skating with a group of friends near the Kissing Bridge. Laurel had mentioned that she was in the town photo, and it all seemed to click.
“Seems to me the feelings weren’t returned,” Rory added, breaking into Aiden’s thoughts. “She did dump a milkshake over your head.”
It hadn’t been Aiden’s finest moment. He’d been a jerk. And he’d been sorry, though she wouldn’t listen to him. If she’d just talked to him, in private, he could have explained it all. Instead she’d made sure he was completely humiliated. There’d been no hope for them after that. Even if he’d put away his pride for two seconds, it had been guilt that kept him silent. He’d wronged her and deep down he knew it.
“Vanilla,” Aiden confirmed, grinning. He wouldn’t let them know how much it bothered him. Probably because history had repeated itself with Erica. Only in that case it hadn’t been a milkshake. It had been his truck, and a rather sharp set of keys. Straight down the side of his custom paint job. He was no good with women, that was for sure. And he wasn’t too great at learning his lesson, either.
“Well, it’s a shame. She’s been through quite a bit, you know.”
“She has?” Aiden hadn’t heard much. Just that she was back and that she’d opened the garden center. He tried not to listen to office or lunch-counter chatter. That type of gossip was one of the few things he didn’t like about living in a town this size. Everyone made everything their business.
>
“She’s newly divorced. Only married three years. You remember their wedding, don’t you? There was a picture in the paper. They got married at that big hotel in Montpelier. They met in college and she interned at his accounting firm, if I remember right.”
Today she’d been in jeans, rubber boots, and a T-shirt. Aiden tried to think of her in office dress and it didn’t compute. She’d always been an outdoor girl. Jeans and ball shirts watching baseball games …
“And now her husband is getting married, again. To one of the partners at the firm.” Moira leaned forward, her voice lowered. “The partner’s name is … Ryan.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Oh for Pete’s sake, Mom. You don’t have to whisper. You can say the word gay.”
“Well, maybe, but you have to admit it’s a little strange, considering he was married to Laurel first. That’s got to be a tough situation.”
He felt sorry for her … and then knew that she’d hate being pitied.
“Well, no matter what’s happened to her personal life, whoever broke into the store really did a number on it. There was dirt and pots everywhere.” He chewed another piece of ham and swallowed, then shrugged. “I know we got into our fair share of trouble, but if we’d pulled something like that, Dad would’ve kicked our asses.”
“You got that right,” John replied, sending his sons the evil eye. It was hard to take the big Irishman seriously, though. His rust-colored eyebrow did this funny lift when he was teasing, and his eyes twinkled.
Rory laughed and reached for the bowl of carrots. “And there’s the big crime story for the month. Some kids roughed up some flowers and took a hundred bucks.”
“And I’m glad.” Moira looked over at Aiden. “I’m okay with Aiden’s job not being all that dangerous. I’d worry too much.”
“Like you do with Ethan,” Claire said.
“Like I do with all you kids,” Moira corrected, frowning. Aiden knew she wouldn’t say so in front of Ethan, because he already put too much pressure on himself. They all knew Moira worried. Ethan was a firefighter and a dad. He had his sons to think of.
So Aiden kept quiet. If he responded, the guys would start their usual teasing about being a small-time cop in a small town. The jokes could go on for hours. Not that Aiden was really looking for adrenaline-pumping danger, but there were definitely days he wished he felt more effective. And if he brought up the subject of civic duty, they’d haze him even more.
So he sat with his mouth shut for the most part, covering his mood by putting on his devil-may-care face.
When the meal was over, Aiden helped clear the table with Claire, while Ethan took the boys for a bath, and Rory and John went out to the shed to have a look at John’s latest woodworking project—a quilt chest for Moira.
Moira worked around the kitchen, packing up leftovers for Rory and Aiden to take home. “This will keep you boys fed for a day or so, anyway,” she said, snapping the lid onto a plastic dish of leftover potatoes.
Aiden laughed. “Mom, seriously, we can feed ourselves.”
“Not like your mother can.”
He put his arm around her. “Well, duh.” He grinned. “I appreciate it, I really do. But I’m a grown man. I do my own laundry and everything.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes soft with affection. “I know you are, and you do. But I’ll always be your mother. Same as I am with all you kids.”
The sound of squeals came from upstairs and they both smiled.
“How’s he doing?” Aiden asked, letting go of his mother and reaching for plates to load in the dishwasher. Claire had gone back to the dining room to tidy the table, and it was just the two of them now.
“Ethan? Oh, he’s muddling through. Doing better.”
“But?”
“But he’s moved from sad to grouchy. He’s … he doesn’t smile. You know?”
Aiden nodded. “I’ll see if we can get him to come out with us soon.”
Moira stopped what she was doing and faced Aiden, her expression sad and serious. “You and Rory … you have this singles club thing going on, and Ethan’s past that now. But he can’t stay alone forever. If you can get him to go out with you, do it. I’ll keep the boys.”
“I’ll talk to Rory. I think we’re both off this Sunday. If Ethan’s off shift, maybe we can hang out. Play a round of golf or something.”
Claire came back in, a dishtowel over her shoulder and the salt and pepper shakers cradled in her hand. “You two look awfully serious.”
“Just talking about Ethan, that’s all.”
Claire opened a cabinet and put the shakers inside. “Nothing’s wrong with Ethan other than he needs to get laid.”
“Claire!” Moira sent her youngest daughter a dark look. “Things are definitely not that simple.”
She shrugged. “All I’m sayin’ is that he’s thirty-two and has a lot of responsibility. Add that to a really long dry spell…”
“I’m not having this conversation with my children,” Moira muttered, and started some water in the sink to wash the pots and pans.
Aiden started laughing. They’d had this kind of conversation many times over the years, though Moira tried to keep it on the polite side of vulgar. But no topic had ever been off limits. As kids, that had been both wonderful and horrifying, depending on which side of the conversation they found themselves.
“Sex isn’t everything, sis.” Aiden reached for the dishwasher soap and filled the reservoir.
Claire stopped short and gaped at Aiden. “When did you get to be all fuddy-duddy?”
He shut the dishwasher door and hit the start button. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I must have grown up. But only a little. I’ve got a ways to go before I get to be as big of a stick-in-the-mud as Ethan.”
“Aiden,” Moira said quietly.
Ethan stood in the doorway to the kitchen, Ronan in his arms, the young boy wrapped in a hooded towel.
“E, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean that.” Aiden struggled to take his foot out of his mouth.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ethan said, and disappeared around the corner again.
But Aiden had seen the look on his brother’s face. A mask of indifference, but a glimmer of hurt, too.
For the second time today, Aiden felt like a screwup. He’d always been known as the goofball, the kid not to be taken seriously. Ethan had become a firefighter, settled down, and had kids before he’d turned thirty. Rory spent eight years in college and had the beginnings of a great career. Hannah had gotten her business degree and now ran her own real estate agency. The twins were the babies of the family, a bit spoiled, and took their share of ribbing about it. It wasn’t that his family didn’t have expectations; they did. It was more that Aiden was always seen as the joker, the single guy, the one who liked life unencumbered.
He was the jock who’d taken Laurel Stone out on a locker-room bet and who’d never dated anyone for longer than six months. And he suspected that if he ever expressed his dissatisfaction with that image, no one would believe him.
“Nice work,” Claire said quietly, and being chastised by both his mother and his baby sister put his teeth on edge.
“I’ll go after him,” Aiden said, his heart heavy.
CHAPTER 3
Laurel had worked all day at the garden center, cleaning up, dealing with the insurance company, doing inventory, and ordering new stock. It didn’t make sense that she’d feel like spending the evening in the garden at home, but she did. She’d dealt with paperwork and customers all day. Right now she was getting her hands dirty, using the physical labor to work out her frustrations. Her arms ached from working with the tiller for the last hour, turning over the earth in the patch that would be her vegetable garden. She rubbed her hands on her jeans and then picked up a shovel and put it in her wheelbarrow. A load of garden soil and a load of compost had been delivered yesterday. She’d spread it, mix it in, and let the earth sit for a week or two before starting to plant.
She was a
bout halfway through the compost pile when the back gate creaked. Laurel looked up and saw Willow Dunaway, owner of The Purple Pig Café, gliding through the gate with a yellow tote bag on her arm. Laurel looked down at her dirty jeans and sighed. Willow, even when she was rushed on the job, always managed to look airy and graceful. Laurel just felt dirty and clunky, especially now.
The two had been friends in high school, but had lost touch over the years. Now that Laurel had moved back, they’d connected over raspberry tea and chocolate scones at the café. They’d recently begun chatting about gardening and food production, since the café specialized in local, organic ingredients. Truth be told, the company tonight was a welcome surprise. Laurel could use a little of Willow’s serenity.
“You didn’t get enough of dirt and plants all day?” Willow asked, plopping down on the grass beside the wheelbarrow.
“I needed something more physical to work out my frustrations,” Laurel admitted. She leaned on the handle of the shovel. “What brings you by?”
Willow’s normally serene face wrinkled into a frown. “I heard about your troubles. Wanted to see if you’re okay.”
“I’m okay, I guess.” Laurel tried a smile and swept her hand out toward her garden-in-progress.
Willow patted the grass beside her. “Come and sit down. You’ll feel better. Connect with the earth for a bit instead of beating the hell out of it.”
Laurel grinned. Willow was such a free spirit. Tonight she wore navy leggings and a tunic-style flowy shirt with a mandala stitched into it. Her face was devoid of makeup, dotted with a few natural-looking freckles and dominated by eyes the color of bluebells. Instead of twenty-eight, she looked about eighteen. Right down to the little purple and pink streaks in her hair, just on one side. She was very different from the preppy, type-A overachiever girl Laurel had known in high school, and Laurel silently admitted to herself that she liked the new, more relaxed version of her old friend. Tonight Willow brought with her the soothing scent of lavender.
