by Donna Alward
The pitcher that appeared proved to be full of pink lemonade. As Hannah poured, she said, “Not too sweet, not to sour, just too, ah … pink.” She said it in exactly the same tone as Uncle Max in The Sound of Music, and Laurel burst out laughing.
“Oh my God. You just made a Sound of Music joke.” It wasn’t unheard of. The von Trapps were famous in this part of Vermont, particularly since Darling wasn’t all that far from Stowe.
“I know. So lame. If I’ve heard one at the real estate office, I’ve heard them all,” Hannah replied, pouring lemonade in a glass. “Bottoms up.”
Aiden touched Laurel’s elbow. “I’m going to go see if I can take on the bocce winner. You okay in here?”
“She’s fine,” Moira replied for her, shooing Aiden away. “Go on. We’re going to put her to work.”
Moira’s announcement made Laurel feel far more comfortable. She didn’t really want to be a guest, sitting around and being waited on. She looked over at Aiden’s older sister, Hannah. She’d been through high school when Laurel had been a freshman. Now that they were older, they seemed closer in age.
“What are you making?” she asked, looking at the bowl of the processor.
“Homemade hummus to go with the vegetables.”
One of the twins went past Hannah to get to the fridge and delivered a hip check on the way by. “Hannah’s all health freaky. She’s a runner.”
The tone of voice was slightly mocking, and Hannah hip-checked right back. “Shut up, brat.”
“What sort of running?” Laurel asked.
“I did my first marathon last year,” Hannah admitted. “But I’m thinking of trying for a triathlon either this fall or in the spring.”
“Wow.” Laurel suddenly felt slightly soft and out of shape, which she hadn’t before. She generally thought the physical labor of running the business kept her trim, but it seemed Hannah was hard core. Laurel looked at her differently now, and could see how her muscles were lean and defined.
“Here,” Moira said, handing her a bunch of tomatoes on the vine. “You can chop these, if you like. I’m making a bruschetta dip.”
Happy to have something to do, Laurel stood up to the counter and took the knife and cutting board that Moira offered. As she sliced and chopped, she asked Hannah about her training and eating habits.
“Do you go to The Purple Pig?” she asked. “Willow’s stuff is all very natural and clean.”
“I love it there!” Hannah beamed. My office is right at the end of the same building. Willow’s great. Her bean salad is to die for.”
Caitlyn and Claire made identical gagging noises.
“You two could use some bean salad,” Hannah advised. “Rather than the pizza and hot dogs you keep stuffing yourselves with. It’s going to catch up with you. Right in your ass.”
Laurel laughed.
“So, you and Aiden,” Caitlyn said. “When did that happen?”
“Oh, it’s not like that,” Laurel insisted, focusing on the tomatoes and hoping she wasn’t blushing. “He came in to the store to get some baskets for the department, and invited me since I have the day off.”
But Claire joined in, making Laurel glad she didn’t have little sisters. “He said he helped you paint over the graffiti on your sign. But Rory said it was well past dark when he got home.”
The sentence hung, heavy with suggestion. Laurel suppressed a sigh. “Oh,” she said casually, “neither of us had eaten. Aiden grabbed a…” She looked up at Hannah and grinned. “A pizza. I suspect it went right to my ass.”
That started Hannah on the topic of the evils of pizza crust, salty meats, and too much cheese and how pizza should be the way real Italians made it, and Laurel was saved from the interrogation.
But not for long. As she scooped the tomatoes into a bowl, she caught a glimpse of Aiden in the backyard, helping Ethan’s oldest toss a red bocce ball toward the white marker, their red heads close together.
When she looked back, Moira was watching her with a shrewd expression on her face. But she said nothing.
And Laurel knew she didn’t have to. Chances were Moira had seen the longing that Laurel felt. And there was no sense protesting it.
CHAPTER 9
Aiden looked up at the deck as the sound of laughter echoed through the yard. The sliding door opened and closed again, and his sisters came outside with dessert. And Laurel was there, too, carrying plates in her hands, laughing at something the twins had said.
Lord, she was pretty.
He looked over at Hannah. There was no question that Hannah was gorgeous with her dramatic red hair and flawless skin. Even as her brother, he could appreciate the fact that Hannah had “it.” Laurel wasn’t like that. She wasn’t flashy or attention-grabbing, but instead had that indefinable “girl next door” quality that reached in and grabbed a man in a subtler, but no less real, way. There was something in her quiet, easy smile that put people at ease. She’d put her hair up in some sort of clip this afternoon, and the style emphasized the long column of her neck. And she did have extraordinary eyes and a perfect mouth—not too wide, lips just the right fullness. He itched to touch her again as he watched her come down the deck steps, using care since she was holding the plates and forks. She was soft where a woman needed to be soft, and firm where she should be. His hands remembered.
“What’s for dessert, Mom?” Rory called out.
“Strawberry shortcake,” Moira replied. “And I made extra whipped cream because you’re a pig.”
Aiden laughed. He loved his family. They were nosy and annoying but also fun and loving.
They all settled around the patio tables once more. There’d been a break between the main meal and dessert. Mainly to make room for dessert, but they’d taken the opportunity to clean up, too. The guys had chipped in, carrying dirty plates and bowls inside and loading the dishwasher while his mom made her to-die-for biscuits for the shortcake. When he’d been washing up the bowl from potato salad, he’d looked out and watched Laurel, sipping a cup of coffee while sitting with his sisters and chatting.
He liked having her here. He just hoped that no one told her the thing they were all thinking. He hadn’t brought a girl home for dinner since he’d broken it off with Erica. If they told her that, she’d surely go running for the hills.
The days were stretching longer and longer now. His father lit a fire in the fire pit to help keep the bugs away, and second helpings of shortcake were served to nearly everyone but Hannah, who was keeping to just berries with the smallest dollop of whipped cream. The little boys got tired and Ethan took them inside for a bath and bed, and then came back out with a cold beer and let out a sigh. Aiden knew he’d have a few drinks and stay here tonight rather than at his house. Holidays were hard for Ethan since his wife, Lisa, had died.
The girls got into their coolers, and even Hannah and Moira sparked up the margarita maker again. “You want something, Aiden?” John grabbed a beer from the cooler and popped the top.
“Naw, I’m going to drive Laurel home later. I’m good.”
“I said I’d drive,” she murmured. “If you want to.”
He looked over at her. “I’m fine. Really.” He wanted to be the one to drive her to her door, to drop her off and maybe kiss her good night. Maybe he was old-fashioned that way. Wouldn’t his siblings get a kick out of that?
“You’re all welcome to stay,” Moira said. “We’ve got lots of room. You too, Laurel. I’m pretty sure we have a spare toothbrush somewhere.”
“Oh, that’s kind of you. But I have to open the store tomorrow morning.”
“All work and no play, this one,” Aiden teased.
“I took today off, didn’t I?”
Their gazes met. “Yes, you did. Are you glad?”
She nodded. “I am. I’ve had a wonderful day.” She smiled at the family in general. “I think Aiden’s partly right. I’ve been working so much I almost forgot what it’s like to kick back and have fun.”
“You’re welcom
e any time,” Moira offered, looking meaningfully at Aiden.
“Thanks.”
That was all Laurel said, and Aiden could tell she was a little embarrassed, so he decided to ask her a question. “Speaking of, do you want to go to the fireworks? They fire them off on the beach, and they don’t start for another forty-five minutes.”
“Um … I guess so. If you want to.”
“Sure. Then I can drop you off after and you can still get a good night’s sleep.”
He tried not to cringe. That sounded almost scripted, didn’t it? Was it so wrong that he wanted a little time alone with her? Maybe away from eyes that continually assessed and speculated? Not that it hadn’t been a good day—it had. But he was ready for something more.
He really was. And the idea that the something more he wanted was with Laurel took him by surprise.
Everyone chatted for a few more minutes, but then Aiden checked his watch. “Are you ready? If we leave now, we can get a good spot for viewing.”
“Oh, sure.” She smiled up at him. “Let me get my purse. I think I left it inside.”
She excused herself and disappeared into the house. Aiden gathered up some empties in an attempt to help tidy a bit, and took them up to the deck to the recycling can. Hannah followed him up the stairs, her empty glass and a couple of cooler bottles in her hands.
“Aiden, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
He held the lid of the can open for her and she put the bottles in. “I’m tidying up. Pretty sure I know what that’s all about.”
“Don’t be obtuse. I mean with Laurel.”
“Frankly, that’s none of your business, Hannah.” His voice hardened and his annoyance grew. The twins teased. Rory teased. Ethan generally silently approved or disapproved. But Hannah … she stuck her nose in. It was a well-meaning nose, but it went in just the same.
“Don’t get all defensive, now. We all know you’ve dated over the past few years, but this is the first time you’ve brought anyone around. And it’s Laurel. You guys have history. I remember you crushing so hard on her in high school.”
“You know, I wish everyone would forget about that,” he muttered, closing the lid.
“In this town? Not a chance.” Hannah chuckled. “You screwed that up big-time. No one’s forgotten that it’s the two of you in that photo, you know. So spending time with her now…”
“What? What real difference does it make?”
Hannah frowned. “She could hurt you again, Aiden. I mean, she just got divorced and her husband is gay.” She hushed her voice, like the whole world would hear about the scandal. Aiden’s temper started to flare.
“Ex-husband,” he started to say, but he heard a sound come from behind him. He and Hannah both looked over and saw Laurel standing there, a false smile on her lips but a coolness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
“I’m ready,” she said lightly. He’d heard that tone before, like fine lace over steel. He had no doubt that she’d heard Hannah’s last words.
“Me, too,” he said firmly, sending Hannah a glare. “Nice work,” he muttered.
They went down the steps and paused at the bottom to say their good-byes. She was good and mad, Aiden figured, when her shorter legs outpaced him on the brief walk to the truck.
“Hold up,” he called quietly, jogging to catch up with her, trying to take the keys out of his pocket at the same time.
He’d locked the doors. She tried the handle and then had to stand and wait while he hit the button to release the lock. “Sorry. Occupational hazard,” he offered, and held her door while she hopped up into the cab.
The air inside was icy cold. And not from any air-conditioning. Laurel looked out the window and treated him to stony silence.
He waited until they had pulled away from the house before speaking. “Hey,” he said, trying a soothing tone. “I’m sorry for what Hannah said.”
“Why?” Laurel spared him a glance. “I am newly divorced and Dan is gay. She didn’t lie.” She sighed. “You know what? It was awkward as ass in the office once the news broke, and I thought coming home would get me away from that. I guess running never solved anything, huh? Maybe I should have gone somewhere I didn’t know anyone.”
“That sounds lonely,” Aiden offered.
She shrugged. “Better than always being reminded.”
“I agree with you.”
She looked at him funny.
“I do,” he insisted. “It’s no one’s damned business. Is that the kind of thing you’ve had to listen to?”
“Yes.”
“If he’d left you for another woman there’d be talk, too, you know.”
“I know.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Aiden. Sometimes I just feel like my life is a tabloid story. It’s stupid.”
“You ever try telling people to mind their own business?” He turned onto the main road, smiling as he turned the wheel.
“I have a business to run. Alienating potential customers isn’t a great way to build goodwill.”
He shrugged again. “Maybe they’ll respect you more for it. Maybe they think you’re hiding from it, and that adds to the mystery.”
She laughed a little. “They won’t think that much longer. Where are we going?”
He wasn’t heading to the middle of town, where most of the residents would watch the firework display. He looked over at her. “The golf course.”
“The golf course.”
“Yep. Apparently you get a perfect view from the seventh tee.”
She rolled her eyes, making him want to laugh. “And you know this how?”
“Ethan. He told me a few years ago.”
“Really.”
“He took his wife here on July 4th one time. That was the night he proposed. But don’t worry. I’m not planning anything like that. I just thought it might be nice for some privacy.”
“Aiden, if I gave the wrong impression…”
“I thought you might not want to give the entire town the wrong impression,” he interrupted her. And she was quiet for a few minutes, as he turned off the road and started down a slightly narrower lane.
The gate to the course was closed at night, and it was far enough off the road that most people didn’t bother venturing through after dark. Aiden parked far over on the shoulder, grabbed an old blanket from the back and threw it over his arm. “You might want to get out my side,” he cautioned. “You’re pretty close to the ditch on the passenger side.”
She took his advice and he held out his hand to help her down. She ignored it and hopped down herself, and he grinned a little. She wasn’t easy, and she was independent and he liked those traits in her now, appreciated them more than he had when they were kids.
Stars began popping out through the indigo sky, little pinpoints of light appearing out of nowhere. It was a clear night, mild but without a lot of humidity, and cool enough Laurel was probably going to wish she’d brought a sweater. Quietly they walked the course, following the path past the clubhouse, the first and second tees, around the pond hazard, past the third tee, over a little stone bridge that had been constructed to mimic the Kissing Bridge. He didn’t stop, though he considered it. They went past the fourth that led to a narrow fairway with trees on both sides, then the fifth that bordered the lake, around the backside of the hole to the sixth, and up a hill to the seventh.
Ethan had been right. The incline meant the lake glittered below them, the surface shining and shifting with moon and starlight. He paused and Laurel stopped beside him. The staging area was a good distance away, a mile or so by his guess. They couldn’t hear anything that was happening, not even on the clear, crisp air. But he saw little figures of people moving about, saw a truck with four-way flashers on, and a firetruck back from the scene, lights flashing, monitoring the situation. On the opposite bank, a crowd was already gathering for front-row seats to the spectacle.
“See? Isn’t this nicer than being in a crowd?”
“Hm.”
Laurel looked up at him. “I know I shouldn’t exactly trust you, but yeah, this is nice.”
He spread out the blanket and sat down, stretching out his legs. “Come on down. I won’t bite. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Hah,” she replied, but she sat down and drew her knees into her chest. She looked so young that way, so fresh and, well, sweet. He pondered that for a minute. Yes, Laurel had always been sweet. Not a pushover, but kind. Nice.
He liked nice girls. Problem was, they didn’t often like him.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, tilting her chin to the sky, looking up at the stars.
He snorted. “I was just thinking what a nice girl you are.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh hell. With one sentence you managed to make me feel old and super-boring.” With a sigh, she flopped back onto the blanket. “I guess I’ll just go home after this and get out my knitting and sit in my rocker.”
He laughed, too. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I don’t know.”
Quiet settled around them. “There are a lot of stars out tonight,” she said quietly.
“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed.
For a few minutes, they didn’t speak. For Aiden, it was a unique and pleasant moment in time where he didn’t feel he had to make conversation. In the silence, he felt closer to Laurel than he’d felt to anyone in a long, long time.
He didn’t want to be the first one to break the quiet. Instead, he waited, his breath shallow in the darkness, until they heard the first pop of the fireworks starting. A few seconds later the sky was filled with a cascade of blue and purple stars.
The show went on, and it was a good one by Darling standards. Multiple colors and types of cascading fireworks lit the sky, drowning out the twinkle of stars with something far more garish and impressive. “Which are your favorite?” he asked quietly, not looking away from the display. Not wanting to break the tenuous connection they had right now, tethered together by the pyrotechnics before them.
“Those ones. No, those.” She pointed at the sky. “I don’t know what they’re called, but when they fall like that, all cascading and stuff, it’s so pretty.”
