by Holley Trent
“You want me to drag it out?”
“No, I just—”
Ben assessed the reddening of her cheeks and decided to swoop in to her rescue. “If you’d known it would’ve been so easy, you would have said something long ago?”
She lifted her baseball cap brim and casting him a thankful gaze. “Yes.”
He winked at her.
“Why does everyone think I’m mean?” Nikki asked, studying her cuticles.
Charlie opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Nikki said, “Don’t answer that. Daisy, I want to put all the new soaps on preview at the Edenton apothecary before they go live on the website. Give me…” She clucked her tongue and stared at the ceiling. “…a gross of each.”
“By when?”
“I’m going to see Mickey on Wednesday about stock, so Tuesday. That cool?”
Tuesday. I’m running out of time. Ben looked at Daisy and could see the wheels turning in her head. He was so proud of her and wanted to be there to see how far she’d go, but that was up to her.
“And then I need you to go into production on those immediately so we have backstock before festival season starts. Do you need some help? You need to tell me, because I don’t know shit about soap.”
That reddening of Daisy’s cheeks again. He knew she was going to try to carry the world on her shoulders because she was so damned afraid of inconveniencing anyone.
Daisy started, “Well, Momma—”
Nikki put up her hands to silence her. “Francine’s going to have to do the traditional soaps on her own. So tell me, do you need another pair of hands between the two of you?”
Say yes, Daisy.
She looked at her shoes and nodded.
“I’ll get you a temp and we can see if you need someone long-term. Deal?”
“Thank you.”
“Super, back to work, please. Goodbye, Charlie. Ben, you sit right there.”
Shit.
The room cleared out, and Daisy gave him one last thankful nod and a chuck of his chin before passing through the door.
“Yes, Nikki?” he said, when Daisy cleared the doorway.
“What’s the hold-up?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned her elbows onto the desktop and narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to take the job or not? Do I need to get Jerry to sit on you and do the big brother thing?”
He laughed. “No, I just…” Suddenly, the cuticles of his right hand seemed really interesting.
“Spit it out, blondie.”
“I’ve just got some things that need to fall into place before I can commit.”
“Girlfriend back home?” Her expression was deathly serious.
“No. Nothing like that. I’d been planning to move, anyway. I…”
He must have paused too long because Nikki’s eyes widened a smidge. “I try not to get involved in my employees’ personal lives, but you’re not an employee. Yet. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But, Ben…” Her expression softened. “I probably have the biggest network of anyone around here. If you need help, I can find you an expert, I’m betting.”
“My problem isn’t concerning the relocation logistics or the job itself. I just…” He looked toward the door Daisy had just left through, then at Nikki again. “I’m trying to make sure this doesn’t blow up on me.”
Her lips formed an O shape and she leaned back in her chair. “Daisy.”
“Yes.”
“You asked her out and she said ‘no’?”
He shook his head.
“What, she doesn’t want anything serious?”
“I get that impression. Maybe I’m rushing her.”
She blew out a long breath.
“I don’t want to push her, but, at the same time, I don’t want to make her feel more awkward than she already does. I’m fairly shameless, but this seems to require some tact. I imagine this is one of those things your network can’t do anything for.”
She bobbed her eyebrows in acknowledgement. “God, but I can’t say I blame her. I know her ex-husband. Have no idea how those two even ended up together. He’d make anyone go the way of the nun. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”
That made him laugh.
Her expression went flat. “I’m serious. Don’t underestimate me, Ben. That’s a mistake you don’t want to make.”
He hoped she was right.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Mom, are you going to be okay sitting next to Dad in the pew?” Jerry knelt next to Clara’s chair and rested a reassuring hand on her knee. “You looked a little green earlier.”
She studied the fairy lights strung across the patio, and concentrated on counting individual bulbs while she got her thoughts, and words, in order. Her English always failed her when she was stressed, and yeah—she felt a little bit of that. And where was Ben?
She looked around the yard, scanned the clumps of rehearsal dinner guests, and didn’t see him. She needed her translator.
Jerry must have sensed her apprehension, because he gave her knee a little squeeze and said, “It’s okay. The words don’t have to be perfect. Just tell me how you feel.”
How do I feel? Hell, she didn’t know. It was all too weird.
The wedding planner had Juan escort her down the aisle behind Trinity’s parents with Louis on her heels. They’d sat together, with him at the aisle, and her keeping a respectful distance not too close, but not so far away as to raise eyebrows. She didn’t know what people thought about her…or if they knew anything about her at all. What must they have thought? Louis had seemed unaffected by it all, cool as cucumber. But then, he always had been staid.
“I am not bothered by sharing a row. It’s…” She looked around again just in time to see Louis approaching the table with a green bottle tucked beneath his arm. He was still some distance away, so she leaned in close to Jerry and whispered, “What are they saying about me?”
He drew back, agape. “You’re really worried about that?”
“Do they think…I broke them up?”
“Who cares what they think? Besides, everyone in this yard right now, with the exception of Trinity’s parents, knows Kate. They know what kind of person she is. They understand why she’s not here.” He stood, relocated his hand to her right shoulder, and leaned over the back of her chair. “These people here—all they think when they look at you is, ‘oh, there’s Jerry and Ben’s mother.’ They’ve got their own skeleton-filled closets. They’re not worried about ours. That’s why they’re our friends.”
Louis pulled out the chair on the other side of the large round table and put the bottle in front of the place setting. He nodded at them.
Kate ignored him and whispered to Jerry, “And tomorrow?”
He put his other arm around her neck and gave her a hug. “Tomorrow, what all those people are going to think is, ‘Oh, look how pretty she is.’ Anything beyond that, who gives a damn, huh?”
With one more little squeeze of her neck, he was off, ostensibly in the direction of his wife-to-be.
Louis studied her from across the table.
“He’s a good boy,” she said in Dutch. “A good man.”
“Yeah, he is. I’m proud of him and Ben both. I…” He closed his mouth, wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle he’d toted over, and stood. He navigated around the table and pulled out the seat at her right.
He set the bottle next to her cloth napkin and turned the label around for her to see. “I remembered you liked that, so I had my secretary track down a bottle.”
The wine was a rosé from Champagne, and one Clara hadn’t seen in at least a decade. It was out of her budget. Her pulse sped, and she placed a hand over her racing heart, stunned.
“You remembered that? Really?”
His expression was tender as turned the bottle back around and studied the label. “I remember a lot of things, Clara.”
“Such as?”
“Like how you like your
eggs a little runny.”
Used to.
“And how you used to always sleep with a light on.”
Because I was waiting for you.
“And that you somehow always manage to turn a hundred eighty degrees in the bed while you sleep.” He let out a little chuckle. “Jerry did that, too.”
She smiled, but it didn’t last. “I hate you for taking him from me.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve hated myself for it every day for the past thirty-two years. It’s been toxic, the guilt. Occupied every free corner of my thoughts. Always niggling. Trust me when I tell you I know how wrong it was.” He blew out a breath and raked his hair back from his forehead. “When I took him, I thought that if only she saw him, she’d love him just like I did, but that didn’t happen. Never did. At one point…I guess Jerry was around five and going through this really inquisitive age, Kate was always so angry with him for asking questions. Her impatience upset me. I felt like she was being mean just out of spite. He was a good kid. Always was. I wanted to just pick him up and go. Take him back to you and stay.”
She looked down and fingered the creases in her sundress. “But you didn’t.”
“No. My family counseled me to just stick it out for a while. My mother thought Kate would eventually leave on her own when she got too frustrated. That way she could go and it’d be her fault and I’d still have my job. Well, that never happened. I guess Kate got too comfortable and I let her get that way.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Did you love her?”
He stared at the tablecloth. “I wish I could say no, Clara. I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t love her a little bit. But it was different. What I felt for her was always familial. I cared for her—for her happiness. But was I in love with her?” He shook his head. “I can’t be in love with more than one person at a time.”
He put a tentative hand on top of hers. When she didn’t shake it off, he wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed.
“Clara, I’m sorry. If I had it to do over again, I would have chosen differently. I would have chosen my little family—you and Jeremiah—even if it meant unemployment. I was a coward. I had my trust fund, and we would have been okay for a while, but…”
She nodded. “But after that.”
“Yeah. The after that is the scary part.”
She let go of his hand when a tiny dark-haired woman approached and leaned in close from the left. “Hi, Ms. Thys?” she said, voice surprisingly husky coming out of such a small package. “Can I talk to you for just a moment in private? I’m Nicolette. Nikki. Jerry works for me.”
“Oh.” Clara accepted the hand she offered and shook it. Glad to have the distraction from Louis—whom she had no idea what she was going to do with—she followed the woman toward the makeshift bar, wondering what she could possibly want.
Nikki handed her a glass of wine and took one for herself. “There, you look like you need that.”
She did. She took a long sip and followed Nikki to her table, which was at that moment empty. She took the seat to Nikki’s left.
“How’s your English?”
Clara made a so-so gesture.
“French? I danced abroad for a while. Don’t know any Dutch. Sorry.”
“Oui.”
“Jerry and I were in the same graduating class from high school. He’s a goddamned genius, but I guess you’ve figured that out.”
Clara nodded.
“But, I don’t want to talk to you about Jerry. I want to talk to you about Ben.”
“Ben? Why?”
“Because I have a little boy. He’s one. I’d do anything to make him happy, even if it means spying.”
Clara startled. “I’m sorry?”
“Hear me out. I want to offer you a job. We have a sudden need for a temp. How long are you going to be in town?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
In the church vestibule, stood on her tiptoes and peered through the swinging door into the sanctuary.
The door arced open, and Juan poked his head out. His eyes widened momentarily, but then he recovered and stuck out his arm for her to take.
“Which side are you sitting on? Bride or groom?”
She wrapped her arm around the crook of his. “Uh. Either. I’ll just sit near the back.” That way fewer people will see I’m here alone.
Juan deposited her near the rear on the right side, and returned to his post at the door.
She scanned the sanctuary, taking in the ambience. Her wedding had been months in the works, but short on execution. In hindsight, the word “trashy” came to mind. She should have put her foot down with the artificial flowers, but they were cheap and Momma wanted to be able to resell them afterward.
“No use letting all that stuff go to waste,” she’d said.
Trinity had opted for simple elegance—stayed true to herself and Jerry. Sure, there were flowers and garlands, but they were tasteful. They suited the old church. Enhanced it, so the beautiful interior looked like the site of the blessed joining it was, and not a cheap Las Vegas wedding mart.
The church wedding had been Trinity’s compromise to Jerry. She was a fairly unapologetic agnostic. Jerry wasn’t exactly religious, but spiritual enough to want to be wed in a sacred place. So, she’d conceded. Daisy had overheard someone on the bus on the way to the amusement park asking Trinity why she okayed it, and she said, “Why wouldn’t I? He wanted it, and it doesn’t hurt me any.” And that’s how Trinity and Jerry were about most things…except work. They argued about work at lot, and pretty passionately, but one or the other usually came around.
Daisy always felt optimistic about love around them. They just fit. They were doing it right.
The vestibule doors opened yet again, and this time the ushers held them in as Trinity’s grandparents and mother were escorted down the aisle. Next came Clara on Juan’s arm followed by Mr. Rouse. Clara gave Daisy’s shoulder a squeeze on the way by. Once that group was seated, the processional music started, and Jerry and Ben entered from a door up front. Daisy sucked in some air and propped her arm atop the pew’s side, staring at the two.
Everyone knew Jerry cleaned up well. He used to make a living at it, and of course he’d look fantastic on his wedding day, but Ben…Ben was nothing to scoff at. He was drop-dead gorgeous in the worst of circumstances, but in a tuxedo he was damned near sex walking.
She slumped and pressed imaginary wrinkles out of her dress, suddenly feeling quite inadequate in her dress from last summer and the shoes she’d hoped wouldn’t hurt her arches. She hardly noticed the bridesmaid coming up the aisle, and only stood for the bride because the people in front of her did.
Daisy crossed her arms over her belly and tried not to be that crying weenie when Trinity passed on her father’s arm. She glided her fingers down Daisy’s left arm, forcing Daisy to look up.
Trinity nodded and smiled at guests as she made her slow march toward Jerry, pausing at Nikki to squeeze her hand, then her aunt Ginger, her own mother, and then she crossed the aisle to give Clara a squeeze.
“Ugh.”
Daisy turned to see the wedding planner in the vestibule shaking her head and sighing. Daisy scoffed. As if Trinity wouldn’t make up a few rules of her own as she went along. The woman was nuts for thinking Trinity would walk down the aisle as if she had blinders on.
They all sat and Daisy leaned her head against the pew side, watching. Listening. Absorbing.
The love between the two was obvious. Daisy could see it in the way Jerry wrapped his arm around Trinity’s waist and drew her close when she reached the altar, conventions be damned. He treated her like she wasn’t something to take for granted—like something he could lose at any minute.
Ben tried and failed to keep a straight face, and gave up, smiling that big grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. And then he looked at Daisy, and his smile drew in a bit. Was he surprised? Disappointed? Daisy didn’t stare any longer to find out, and instead cut her gaz
e across the room to Clara.
Clara’s shoulders, even from ten rows away, visibly shook, and Daisy wanted to go to her.
No need. Louis shifted in their pew, and a moment later, Clara pressed a handkerchief to her face. Her shoulders stilled as Louis slipped a cautious arm around them. When she didn’t pull away, Louis looked up front again.
From there, Daisy really didn’t pay much attention to the ceremony as much as she did the people within it. It was like watching a television drama on mute. The words weren’t important because the actions were so poignant.
These people loved each other. All of them in different ways. If she could feel that all the way at the back of the church in the very last row, why hadn’t she felt that from her own husband when she was the one standing at the altar?
She must have been doing it wrong.
* * *
Ben hadn’t seen Daisy walk in. He hadn’t known she was going to the wedding at all. He’d been so caught up in the energy at the altar, he didn’t think to can the congregation except to check on Moeder, who’d been atypically weepy all morning. But then he caught a flash of red in his periphery, and there Daisy was, looking awestruck.
And there he was with Trinity’s maid of honor on his arm. He waited until they were in the foyer to ditch her, the wedding planner’s voice barely registering to his ears.
“Ben! The receiving line.”
“Just give me a minute,” he said. He brushed past Jerry and told him, “I’ll be right back.”
Jerry bobbed his head toward the pews. “Go on. Carpe diem and such.”
Daisy was just about to file out into aisle when Ben bumped her back in. His fingers went immediately to the short curls at her temples and he raked his hands through the shorn locks before lacing her fingers at the back of her neck.
“Do you think it makes me look like a boy?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
He shook his head. “It suits you, but I liked all that hair. Felt like it was part of your personality.”
She looked in the general direction of the buttons on his vest. “Maybe I needed a clean slate.”
