With You: A Queensbay Small Town Romance (The Queensbay Series Book 5)

by Drea Stein

“A nightcap?” Colby’s voice was like liquid heat, low and warm, and his blue eyes were directed toward her.

  “No, thank you,” Tory said, pulling her mom off of the barstool. “We really must be going.”

  Alfie stood and with a flourish brought her mother’s hand to his lips, giving it a courtly kiss.

  Linda giggled at the flamboyant gesture, and Tory had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Colby just stood there, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking slightly amused.

  “Now, Mom,” Tory said more clearly as she dragged her mother across the floor of the Osprey Arms and out into the crisp night air, ignoring the stares of the other diners. Colleen McShane, the hostess, inclined her head in goodbye, her lips twisted in what Tory was sure was a smirk, and Tory fought back the impulse to tell her to shove it.

  Chapter 19

  “What was that all about?” Tory demanded, once she had - yes, dammit - peeled out of the parking lot. The throaty growl of the Mustang’s engine was a sort of music to her ears, and she concentrated on navigating through the narrow streets of Queensbay until she got onto the main road heading out of town.

  “What do you mean?” Her mother was looking at herself in her compact mirror, refreshing her lipstick.

  “You were practically throwing yourself at him.” Tory fought to keep her voice from rising in indignation.

  “Who?” her mother said, in a too-innocent tone of voice.

  “Alfie, that’s who.”

  “You mean Alfred?” Her mother’s voice took on a humorous note.

  “Yes, the somewhat past his prime gentleman who offered to buy you a drink.”

  “Past his prime? Tory, that’s not really very nice, you know. I mean, if you’re calling him past his prime, what do you think about me?”

  Tory sighed and again fought back the desire to roll her eyes as she took a turn a little too sharply. Her mother said nothing as her hand gripped the handle of the door tightly.

  “Mom, he’s like twenty years older than you, and this isn’t about you.”

  “Then I don’t understand why you even care. Alfred is a very nice man, and he offered to buy me a drink quite a while ago.”

  “You mean it’s been going on for a while?” Tory practically slammed on the brakes, and her mother lurched forward. All of a sudden, texting, the new hairstyle, and the clothes seemed to make some sort of terrible sense. Not her parents. Sure, she had noticed that they’d been sniping at each other—well, her mother had been sniping at her dad—more than usual. But that couldn’t mean her mother would go out … and find someone else, could it?

  “Are you ok to drive, dear? I didn’t see you have more than one glass of wine, but I can call a cab for a ride.”

  “You mean this isn’t the first time you’ve met him?”

  “Alfred? Of course not. He’s one of the big supporters of the Maritime Museum. He often comes to lectures and functions there. I’ve met him several times. Spends half the year down in Florida, a big sailor. Gobs of money, of course, but quite a dear, to tell you the truth. Last month, I helped him track down some material he was looking for on the shipbuilders that used to be active in the area. He was so appreciative he offered to buy me a drink. I think he meant coffee, but if you hadn’t pulled us out of there so quickly, I think he would have bought us both a glass of wine.”

  “I can buy my own drinks,” Tory muttered darkly as she navigated the twisty roads out of town toward the more heavily wooded section of Queensbay. The Somers’ house sat in a development of other Colonial style homes, all set back from the road on neat, well-maintained lawns. In fact, it was almost a competition among the men on the block to see who could have the greenest, best cut, totally leaf-free lawn. Her dad enjoyed it, spending most of his weekend mulching, weeding, cutting and edging the square of grass to perfection.

  “That’s not the point,” her mother muttered back, and Tory felt a little churlish. So the conversation between Alfie and her mom had been innocent—at least her mother’s explanation made it seem so—but it didn’t explain the way her mother had been busy checking her text messages all evening or the casual way she had dismissed her husband’s absence from dinner.

  Tory pulled up into her parents’ driveway, aware that the blacktop must have been re-done recently. The house was lit up, with brass solar-powered lamps lining the brick walkway to the front door, and tasteful spotlights illuminating the miniature Japanese maple and the great oak in the middle of the lawn. All in all, everything about 47 Cherrywood Lane was very neat. Neat, organized, without a thing out of place.

  “Sorry I got in the way of your free drink,” Tory said, hoping that they could end the evening on a good note.

  Her mother gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “It’s not a big deal. It was just nice to think of someone appreciating me for a bit.”

  The car light went on, and Tory could see her mother’s hand on the door latch.

  “You don’t need to walk me in. The security system is armed, and I left some lights on.”

  “Mom, let me walk you to the door,” Tory said. She wasn’t sure what else to say. Her dad was probably still at the office, and she didn’t want her mother entering an empty house alone.

  “I’m sorry Dad’s so busy,” Tory said as she followed her mother out of the warmth of the car and into the cooler night air. The sky was clear, with an almost full moon pushing up over the horizon.

  “He’s always busy this time of year. It’s not a big deal. I told you, Tory, don’t worry about me. I suppose it was just nice to get out and see people—you know, live a little.”

  “Maybe we can do dinner again, in a few weeks,” Tory offered, mad at herself for making something out of nothing.

  Her mother laughed. “Oh dear, you don’t have to do it because you feel sorry for me. I have plenty of things to keep me busy, from volunteering at the Maritime Center to my book group to the Garden Club.”

  “You hate gardening,” Tory pointed out. Her mother gardened, up to a point, which mostly meant that she bought tons of cheap annuals and paid one of the high school kids on the block to plant and weed for her all summer. Unlike her dad, her mom cared only about the outcome, not the process, of home maintenance.

  “True, but the Garden Club does a nice luncheon every month and I’ve been going for years.”

  “Maybe when Dad’s done with the busy season, you should get him to take you out more.”

  Her mother shot her a look as she pressed a code into the keypad outside of the garage.

  “Your father hates eating out,” her mother reminded her as the garage door rolled smoothly up and revealed the well-organized garage with the her parents’ his-and-her Honda Accords sitting side by side. Her dad must have gotten home already.

  “You two must like to do something together?” Tory asked. But it was true. Her father was a not a big fan of eating out, always complaining about the prices, claiming that it was always a financially smarter decision to eat at home. And then he would complain about the cost of the grocery bill. Tory knew her dad considered himself frugal, and that the frugality meant that they had lived in a nice house, in a nice neighborhood, and that her clothes had been new, if not designer labels, and that her college education had been paid for, the money set aside on a regular basis from the moment she’d been born.

  Frugality had also meant that Tory had never felt poor—but then again, she had never felt particularly rich either. Safe and secure, but there had never been any sense of unpredictability or spontaneity in the Somers’ household. She had always assumed she was the only one bothered by it.

  “Maybe there is something else you can do? Like travel?” Tory suggested.

  “He’s not a big fan of that either. Remember those road trips we took?”

  Tory nodded. Her father had also complained about spending money to sleep in a motel when there was a perfectly good bed in his house.

  “He must like something,” Tory threw out, hoping her mother would mention so
mething useful.

  “He likes his TV shows, football, golf and his boat.”

  Tory nodded and felt the smallest bit of sympathy for her mother. Her mother was right; her father loved the Patriots, golf, crime dramas and his boat.

  “Maybe you should take up golf? You know, so you have something to do together.” She knew her mother tended to get seasick, which is why she didn’t spend much time with her husband on the boat.

  The door from the garage into the house led into a combination of hallway and mudroom. There was a small powder room off to the side, and then it opened up into a large eat-in kitchen and family room.

  There was the low hum of sound from the TV. Tory followed her mother in, thinking she would say hi to her dad. She stopped. Her dad was in his favorite armchair, the TV set on one of the police shows he loved. A glass of milk and a half-eaten cookie were on the small side table next to him. His head was back, his eyes closed and a stream of gentle snores issued from him.

  A frown crossed her mother’s face as she went closer to her husband and said, in what Tory had expected to be a gentle voice, but wasn’t, “George, get up. You fell asleep in front of the TV again. Go upstairs; sleep in a bed.”

  Her father made a sound, roused himself and promptly fell back asleep. Her mother threw up her hands, then took a step back.

  “Every night, he does this. Comes home, has a glass of warm milk and just falls asleep in front of the TV. Claims he wants to watch a show, but never sees more than five minutes of it and asks me—can you imagine that—what happened?”

  Her mother shook her head as she walked into the kitchen. “I tell him he needs to spring for the better cable system so he can record it.”

  “Mom, you mean you don’t tell him what happens?” Tory said, slightly aghast. That just sounded cruel.

  “If he can’t stay awake on his own to watch it, why should I? What do I look like, a TV Guide?”

  There was a definite note of hostility in her mother’s voice.

  “Did he forget your anniversary or something?” Tory asked, wondering if there was some specific reason that would account for her mother’s bitterness.

  “No, but it wouldn’t matter, since he thinks anniversaries are silly anyway.”

  “Ok, Mom.” Tory held up her hands in a placating way.

  Her mother made a harrumphing sound, then shook her head and put on a smile. “Sorry, dear, it’s nothing. Just an old lady complaining a bit. I had a lovely time at dinner, and I would be happy to go out with you anytime, but you have your own life to live. You don’t need to help me live my own.”

  Tory was not deceived by the sudden change of subject or the new tone of mildness in her mother’s voice, so she braced for it, knowing just what was coming next.

  “That was very nice of that Colby character to lend you a car,” her mother said, turning to straighten two dish towels that hung on the handle of the oven.

  “Character? I hardly think Colby qualifies as a character, Mom.” Tory tried to keep her own voice mild but knew a faint hint of defensiveness was creeping in.

  “Man, gentleman, mechanic, whatever you call him.” Her mother had stopped fiddling with the towels and was now standing at the kitchen island, hands folded on the countertop, looking straight at Tory.

  “Since I’m paying, or well, I guess the insurance company is paying him to fix my car, he’s not really lending me anything. It’s just a business arrangement, really. ” Tory thought about the way she had felt when Colby had put one of his warm, capable hands on her back. Ok, so she wouldn’t mind getting down to business with him, but that didn’t mean she should or would. She just needed to exercise a bit of self-control.

  “I suppose that’s ok then,” her mother said, then paused.

  “What?” Tory had to ask, knowing she probably wouldn’t like the answer.

  Her mother hesitated as if she weren’t sure she should say her piece.

  “Go on, out with it,” Tory said.

  “Fine, I just wouldn’t want you to get distracted again, now that everything is going so well at work.”

  “Distracted?” Tory asked and was pleased to hear her voice sounded low and level, in no way reflecting the way the rest of her felt, as if she’d just been set on a low, long boil.

  “You know what I mean. I’m sure he’s a nice guy and he does have that darling accent, but really I don’t think you need a boyfriend right now. Now with your new job and all. I mean, just because he had a nice car, I wouldn’t want you to place too much importance on that.”

  Her mother was dancing around the subject.

  “Mom, I’m not in high school. I have my own car. I don’t care about something like that,” Tory had to explain through gritted teeth. Did her mother really think that she would choose a boyfriend because he had a cool car? Now, if Colby showed up on a motorcycle, all bets might be off.

  “It’s just the last time someone like Colby came along, you got a little lost.”

  Tory almost laughed. Lost. She had been worse than lost, a hot mess, adrift after Stevie. But Colby wasn’t anything like Stevie. Well, he was a lot like Stevie. It was even more critical that she didn’t lose herself again.

  “Mom, it’s not like that. Colby and I, it’s just you know, nothing serious, I mean there is nothing going on.”

  “Oh, so are you two, you know, having…?” Her mother’s question trailed off.

  “Having what?”

  “You know, just … well, what do they call it these days?” Her mother’s voice dropped alarmingly low as she glanced over her shoulder toward Tory’s sleeping father.

  Tory leaned in. “I don’t know, Mom. What do they call it?”

  “You know, friends … or … no, they call it something else. F—”

  “Oh dear God,” Tory hissed. “Please, Mom, don’t ever say that again.”

  “Then you should just tell me what they call it. Saves me having to ask around.”

  Tory took a deep breath. “Next time, if you have to say it—and please, I hope you never have to say it again—I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘friends with benefits’.”

  “Oh,” her mother nodded sagely, “yes, that’s the term I was thinking of. So, are you two friends?”

  “No, Mom, we’re not.” Tory held up her hands, and started to back away. It was getting late and now, more than ever, she really wanted to be at home in her own bed. There was definitely something to be said for having your own place, especially when it gave you the freedom to cut short awkward conversations with your parents.

  “That’s good to hear.” Her mother was re-arranging a stack of mail now, going through it as if it hadn’t already been sorted the minute it arrived.

  Tory was about to say her goodbyes when she stopped. She had to ask, even though she didn’t think she would get the right answer.

  “Mom, is it any guy or just Colby that has you so concerned?”

  Her mother sighed. “Tory, you’ve done so well for yourself. You can go places, anyplace you really want to. I know you think that this new job is amazing, but there’s a lot out there. I just don’t want to see you settle. You know, never leave here, never see the world.”

  Tory sighed. “I’m not settling, Mom. It’s a good job. I’ve traveled. I go places. But you know what I’ve realized? This is a good town. I’m happy here. I have friends. I think that counts for something. Can’t you be happy for me?”

  “Of course I’m happy for you,” her mother said. “But I don’t want you to look around in a couple of years and realize that you missed out on things. On what could have been. It’s just that, before you know it, twenty years has gone by.”

  “He’s just fixing my car,” Tory said, but she knew that it was a lie. She felt too much when she was around Colby.

  Her mother gave a little laugh and a knowing smile. “Some men are more distracting than others, dear, no matter what they do. It seems to me that Colby, if he wanted, could prove to be very distracting to any
woman that would let him.”

  “Oh,” Tory said, not sure what else to say since her mother was right. She had managed to hold most men at arm’s length for a while. Until now. Colby had invaded her thoughts. He was definitely a distraction. It was an unsettling feeling. But she was older, and she hoped, wiser. Maybe she could handle it better this time.

  “It’s late, dear,” her mother said more gently and without any sort of hidden meaning. “You should go home and get a good night’s sleep. I have to make sure your dad gets up to bed.”

  Tory nodded, her mind whirling. Her mom had already turned with a small sigh back to her father. She watched as her mother went through the same ritual as before, only to have her father snore even more loudly this time.

  Chapter 20

  She pulled up in front of her apartment building and the nearly empty parking lot. It was mid-week, and the restaurant closed early so she was surprised when she saw him there, casually leaning against the railing of the boardwalk in the spill of light from one of the oversized lamps that dotted the harbor front.

  “What are you still doing here?” she asked as she got out of the car.

  Colby smiled and held up a glass. “You didn’t have a chance for a night cap. I thought I’d see if I could interest you in one.”

  She stepped up onto the sidewalk and crossed to the boardwalk. It overlooked the harbor, curving its way around the edge, and gave access to the docks.

  “How’d you know?” she said with a smile.

  “What you liked? Simple, I asked the bartender. He suggested an interesting red, like the lady it was for.”

  He raised his glass in a toast, and she did the same. Behind them, she was aware that the lights of the restaurant were going off one by one and that the hum of activity was slowly fading away. The warmth of the spring day had evaporated, making the stars twinkle crisply against the inky blue backdrop of the sky. She couldn’t help herself as she shivered.

  Colby dropped an arm around her, and she didn’t try to move, just relished the warmth.